I Prefer Lord
by TheLadyValura
Summary: Enemies are more alike than they seem. Hermione's story, finding a place where she truly belongs.
1. Chapter 1

**I Prefer Lord**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it…blah blah blah

Hermione Granger strolled a dark alley in a dark part of town, a part of town now more unsafe than ever, looking for some place where she could numb her brain with Fire Whiskey and then hopefully get killed, or maybe she'd splinch herself trying to apparate home. She would certainly be recognized here, her face was everywhere with Harry's and Ron's probably along with some scathing remark, it seemed both sides were against them now.

She had graduated Hogwarts with the highest mark in half a century, matched by only one. She had offers left and right, from the Ministry, private companies including Gringotts, and nearly every paper, ranging from the Daily Prophet (enemies within or not) to the Quibbler. But she rejected them all. Harry needed her and Ron. So they would both be there, glamorous career options or not.

Except things weren't going well. Voldemort was killing more and more by the second. On any night you could look into the sky from Hogsmede and see two or three glimmers of green stars looming ominously in smoky skies above smoldering shops and homes. And worse than that, he himself hadn't been spotted in nearly six months. It was as if he had disappeared away from everything but somehow was more powerful than ever. People were beginning to whisper. "The Boy Who Lived is no match for him. Not anymore, how could we have believed a mere child could be our savior?" "Look there comes the heroes people would jeer…" But did any of them step up and fight the Death Eaters when they went on genocide sprees through their neighborhoods? Did any of them risk their lives to stop this evil from spreading? No…but they expected them to create miracles on their own. The Order was criticized constantly in the Prophet, _"Muggleborn, some Weasley, and Potty are at it again…" _Written by Malfoy, who by connections had earned himself a position on the Prophet, suspected Death Eater or not… "The misfit trio is at it again. Stirring up violence with Voldemort and his supporters when the Dark Lord has decided to calm attacks. The Dark Lord has not even been seen for months. Yet the members of the Order of the Phoenix including the trio, a few more Weasleys, a werewolf, and petty thief, feel the need to rekindle the blood shed. Since there is obviously no way of fighting The Dark Lord and his evil minions, why would they choose to keep the fighting and killing going while we may be able to have a month of peace before the terror continues. But "they" won't be satisfied with that; "they" want the fight to end NOW. But…as much as we all desire Voldemort to be vanquished from this world…Can they offer us that? What have we seen for half a year now but a constant shift toward more chaos? Each morning it seems we wake to a higher death count of the night before, no improvement at all."

Voldemort retiring into peace? Ha…it killed her. It was true…he had disappeared, but not for a return to peace. There was more random, senseless, unpredictable violence from the Death Eaters than ever. They were pouring their hearts into fighting a losing battle to save these people and none of them were grateful. And now she was an outcast. She had seen Ollivander in a shop and had jokingly said, "Well now that the Wars almost over maybe I can take you up on that jobs offer." He had looked at her coldly and turned his back exiting the store. "I hate these people…" she thought with sudden aggravation. She paused in her steps.

"I hate these people." She spoke the words outloud as if she had just learned some horrible, amazing secret. "No…I don't" she whispered with conviction that she was not feeling in her heart. "I just need a drink." She thought. "I just need to forget about all this for one night." She affirmed herself in her mind. Yes…she would get completely plastered and tonight and if she made it home, she would awake with a horrible headache, and the knowledge that she really did want to save the awful people.

She walked in a shady tavern whose entrance gave off an aroma of incense, sickness, hard liquor, and something that reminded her unsettlingly of death. The lights were this weird shade of orange and it was so smoky, it reminded her of Halloween. She saw a warlock with an enormous crow upon his shoulder by the bar and felt chills. Vampires were congregated in a dark corner sipping something she only hoped was wine. A tall thin man in plain green robes leaned against the wall staring directly at her. "Pervert" she thought. She proceeded to the bar and order some Ogden's with a single black cherry. She went at it like was water and she had been travelling through the deserts. She had a strange feeling though, even through the hazy cloud the alcohol and strong smell of smoke and incense was beginning to form in her. The man in the green cloak…. He was still staring at her. But now she saw in his hand, a book…. Not any book…Hogwarts, a History. Suddenly her body was standing up without her mind exactly approving yet. Then her mind caught up and said, "No…you don't know him Hermione, and look where you are!" But then another part of her mind, an uninhibited free spirit, the part of her that truly made her Gryffindor, the part of he that broke rules for her friends chimed in. "Hermione…its Hogwarts, a History…and he looks like he has a nice body. Thin, but lithe, his robes were positioned just right…but she couldn't see his face. Finally she came to a table about four feet from him and sat with her drink, sipping coyly at it.

"You're reading my favorite book." She said plainly, but she leaned forward as if to look better at the cover and let her robe slip ever so slightly, exposing the tiniest bit of shoulder, pretending not to notice.

His head was facing her now, she imaged he was looking at her now, but she couldn't see. His hood was a little too low, his face a little to shadowed by smoke and lighting, but his body…that she could see. "Interesting…what do you make of the views expressed in chapter three?"

Her face lit up, then shadowed, "Maybe I shouldn't say in this current location. Some people here would probably disagree with me…you would probably as well." She posed it more as a question though. As if daring him to say his first, to prove her right.

"Actually I'm rather open on the subject, it has yet to effect me, and I don't like to be involved with the non-sense of other people." He said in his dark, soft, sensual voice. It reminded her of black silk, or maybe the incense around them. It was intense, almost overpowering, it made her mind feel dizzy…but she couldn't stop herself from inhaling it deeply each time.

"Open? I don't see how you can't feel one way. Either blood matters or it doesn't. There is no gray area in the matter." She said passionately.

"Is there? I don't see it that way. Originally there was a magic world and a muggle world. Then a few wizards got it into their heads to start mixing their blood with muggles, merging our world and theirs. It was a decision not all agreed with, and rightly so. Then the attacks began. We were getting persecuted by muggles. At first we tried to fight by their methods, but we had no familiarity with them, and more and more witches and wizards were being killed defenselessly. Children, mothers, elderly, it didn't matter to muggles. They didn't understand us and wanted us dead. So some fought back. But then it only got worse until finally the Ministry thought of a way to end it. Muggles were Obliviated to forget the witch hunts for the most part. Some were given memories, that all of this talk of witches was the mark of a crazy person; and eventually they were left alone. But now there was a hatred and fear in the wizard community of muggles. And it stuck in the minds of those who had never thought merging the two worlds together was wise. Those that it had effected became the pure bloods, vowing never to mix with muggles, although it happened still, the attitude towards it was one of disgust and betrayal. They don't trust muggles. Muggles are below us still relying on their bodies and lowest mind functions to do everything." He finished neutrally. "However…I don't believe muggleborns are useless."

She took another long sip of her drink peer at him intently. He made sense in some sick perverted way…it was almost making her ashamed of her own blood. "Muggleborns certainly are not useless." She said boldly trying to find his eyes. "I had the highest marks at Hogwarts is half a century. Only one person, one, ever matched me." She smiled darkly, "I'll let you guess who that was."

She laughed, "So many prospects, my professors all so eager to learn which opportunity I would follow" She took a final long sip, catching the cherry in her mouth from the glasses bottom. "But I chose to help these fools" she raised her arms. "Well probably not anyone in here actually, actually most people in here are probably aligned with his side."

"Voldemort's?" the man asked softly. The way he said the name gave her chills.

"Yes… I'm surprised to hear you speak his name so openly. Even on my side, so few will speak his name…I do. But only because I believe fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself." Her face was flushed now and her eyes full of hope, "And I won't give in and fear him…in a way I pity him in fact."

The man laughed. But his laughter was not seductive and soft like his voice; it was cold, mirthless. She felt chills. "Is that so? You pity Voldemort?" he said amused. "Really you must explain yourself dear child."

"For one…I'm not a child." She said with a slight smirk. She suddenly had a feeling something wasn't right, she still couldn't see his face, but she could tell he was smiling, his skin was pale. "Well…I pity him because Harry went through nearly the same thing, he lost his parents, was raised by people who had no love for him; but he turned out okay. Because he had hope, that love was out there, that people truly were good. And when he found out he was a wizard and had people who cared for him he was okay. But it was too late for Voldemort, he never experienced love, and it turned him into a monster."

"You think Voldemort became what he is because he didn't experience love?" the man said in a tone that was unreadable. But then he laughed again. It froze her blood; it made her think of dark, terrible things. A long white finger stroked her cheek. His skin was ice. "For such an intelligent girl…you have awfully deluded romantic notions of the way things are…"

She felt afraid…well part of her did. But she didn't turn her cheek from his touch. There was this stirring inside her, he was making her heart race and the chills, they were intoxicating, and she could nearly see his face now. Thin, but angular, well sculpted jaw line, fine cheekbones, his eyes seemed to glow almost, she couldn't quite see yet though, if only he'd move into the light. "I don't think my thoughts are deluded sir…the power of love is greater than anything that exists."

"Funny…" he whispered still stroking the long skeletal finger along her jaw. "Yet I sense…that you have never even experienced this love, the love which you claim could have saved the Dark Lord. Perhaps…what you think is love…is not the only love which exists." His words clouded he mind further…she needed to get outside and breath fresh air. Between the liquor, smoke, and this intoxicating conversation she couldn't think straight, her mind wasn't responded as she knew it should. But her legs weren't moving towards the door, instead she moved forward till there was hardly any space between the two of them.

"What do you think love is then?" she whispered into his ear, her breath was like fire compared to the iciness of his skin.

"Love is magic. It's the fire that courses our blood, it is the light tickling feeling when you cast your first charm, feeling the burning power inside you, your own power. You feel its seep from your blood channel out through your wand make incredible things happen…or terrible. Love is the smell of ancient spell books, potion ingredients, and ink. Love is perfecting a spell till your knees are shaking and your eyelids are heavy and your hands are blistered. Love is when you cast that spell, and feel your own magic complete your own spell, a singular, original force created by a mortal. Love is transcending mortality for that moment and becoming something greater, more powerful, god like…" his fingers had now slipped into her hair and his mouth came down roughly on hers the passion of his speech manifested in the kiss.

He pulled away after a moment leaving her feeling a horrible mixture of exhilarated and terrified. "My god…" she whispered as he stroked his skeletal finger along her throat…. Except. Her eyes darted to her throat to see a wand. From this angle she could see his eyes and her stomach knotted and her heart raced. They still glowed, like a cat's almost…but it was the color…blood red…pupils were slits…there was no mistake.

"I prefer Lord, Hermione."

**Author's Note**: Yay! So I'm kind of proud of this. Because it's the first time I've managed to write Voldemort, and I adore him so…review pleasssssse. I think this is a one shot, I'm not certain I know where else to go with the plot.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** No ownership of HP.

**Author's Note:** Second chapter, review please. I have a very vague idea where I'm going with this, hopefully this chapter is decent, I tried.

**Chapter 2**

Silence. Conversation must have been continuing throughout the bar, but she heard nothing. Not his breath or her own, not the rapid beating of her heart, not the spell that he must have been casting, for his lips were moving slowly. She was going to die…well it was what she came for, so she couldn't feel sorry. His wand was now emanating heat, burning her, he smiled, but it wasn't a cruel one.

Then it hit her with a force unlike anything she had ever experienced…knowledge. So many spells…ancient, familiar, some she had never heard of; those were his. They seemed to fill a void within her. She breathed in deeply, the feeling; it could only be described as ecstasy. He seemed amused, as if he had confirmed something. His slowly wand left her throat and she felt it all being sucked away from her, it was painful beyond all words, but it was not physical pain. It was the void. She felt empty. A moment ago there had been so much power, so much knowledge.

"That…is love" he whispered into her ear as she shook, tears beginning to form in her eyes. Eyes that had changed, for there was something new there, something dark. "Now dear child…I must depart. I should kill you now I suppose…" he smirked, "But I think death would only be a release for you…no I shall leave you now with something to think about…" his voice was soft, but not warm, "Your side may be good…But…is your side right?"

She was vaguely aware of the popping sound of apparation but her mind was elsewhere.

_"Was her side right?"_

_"Yes!"_ screamed one part of her mind. _"You would be dead under his rule, along with every other muggle born and half-blood…or at least most. And he is a murderer…he kills innocent people."_

_"But the knowledge…the power…"_ countered a new side, or perhaps it had been there all along, buried, waiting to be released. "_You would escape death…He understands…you seek knowledge, just as he had. All those spells Hermione…spells The Order forbid you from learning. And why? Because they were the spells "his side" uses. Well it was no wonder "his side" was winning…all that power."_

And it waspower she would never be able to attain. She felt the true potential of her magic for a moment, and now she would never be able to forget…it would haunt her…she had never noticed how empty she felt.

A sharp sting on her right wrist. Harry was calling. She looked at the small black phoenix tattoo carrying an olive branch and suddenly felt sick. Her mark, two sides of the same coin she thought bitterly. Well it must be important to summon The Order at this time of night. And with a pop she was gone, leaving a few patrons staring curiously where she had stood…none more curious than a tall thin man in green robes standing in the darkest corner with a dark smile gracing his hideously elegant face. "_Soon…" _he thought. _There was no sweeter taste than the fall of innocence._

* * *

"I believe we have found a way to stop some of this evil from growing." Harry said with feverish intensity, his green eyes carried something new these days. Something that frightened them; but none more than Hermione, for she had seen it now in the eyes of another…just Harry's eyes seemed devoid of the cold intelligence, his were burning with rage, vengeance. 

"What is it? Did you finally locate the headquarters?" Ron asked eagerly, ever supportive.

"No…" Harry said with annoyance, "But I will soon enough, this however may be better. If we can't find the roots, we can at least cut the buds off."

A few nodded understanding. Hermione though she did…but…no it couldn't be, this wasn't right.

"The training camp?" Tonks asked. "The Aurors have suspected its location for a while, but there was really no way of being sure."

"Well we did a little detective work." He smiled. "Ginny has been quite successful in her mission…so far." A dark look crossed the Weasley family, as they were reminded of the reason for their daughter's absence.

"Surely Malfoy hasn't begin spilling information to her that quickly?" Hermione asked with surprise. Everyone seemed to get uncomfortable.

"At the last meeting…the one you weren't able to make because you fell asleep studying from a book we already warned you about having…Ginevra informed us she had been forced to make a sacrifice of sorts…" Lupin said delicately, seeing the pained look of Ginny's family.

"What sort of sacrifice?" Hermione asked feeling cold all over.

"A vow…of sorts…" Harry said looking directly at her, no trace of emotion apparent in his blazing green eyes. "You could say, an oath to preserving pure bloods, she has agreed to be his wife."

"What?" Hermione choked. "You can't be serious?"

"Oh…but he is…" Arthur Weasley said sadly. "No one had predicted Malfoy would ever ask. I mean even if she swore she had disconnected herself from us, and truly hated mudbloods just was forced to tolerate them for so long because of us, no one thought he'd go this far…"

"But why would you force her to?" Hermione was so confused, none of this seemed right. Ginny was being married off to Malfoy of all people, for the sake of a little information.

"We didn't force her dear, personally I was against it." Molly Weasley muttered.

Hermione made eye contact with Harry for a moment. Knowledge, she felt a flicker of something when she looked straight into his eyes, she heard soft words:

"We can still be together one day Ginny…" Harry said softly, his voice was different, it reminded her of someone.

"One day? Harry do you realize what you're asking me to do? I don't love him, I love you." Ginny pleaded tears welling up in her eyes.

"Stop being so selfish." A cold voice, so unlike the Harry she once knew. "This is for the future, this is for our victory. Don't you want to see Voldemort defeated?"

"Of course…" Ginny replied softly, shoulders falling in defeat, "I'll tell him I accept tomorrow. But tonight…I just want to be with you…" tears trickled down her pale freckled cheeks.

"No Ginny, you're no longer mine. Later…when this War is over." And Harry turned his back to her.

Hermione's mouth gaped open, and she heard someone say her name loudly.

"Hermione!" shouted Ron.

"What?" she asked slowly coming out of her daze.

"What just happened? You look sick." Ron eyed her warily.

Harry was staring at her now with a look of sudden recognition. "You were peeking around where youshouldn't be…I know that feeling…seems we have a secret Legimens."

"You're a Legimens Hermione?" Lupin asked excitedly, then frowned, "But why didn't you tell us."

Hermione wasn't sure what to say; she certainly couldn't say the reason she suspected her sudden talent in Occlumency had come from.

Harry spoke now as if afraid of anything she might say, "It doesn't matter…all of you can leave now, I want to talk to Hermione about a special mission."

"But what about the training grounds?" Tonks asked with disappointment.

"We'll meet about that tomorrow." Harry said dismissively

The rest of the Order looked at him with a mixture of confusion and nervousness that had been steadily increasing over the past few meetings. Once they were all gone Harry turned towards Hermione, eyes uncomfortably cold, a smirk on his face...the expression…it was just like…

"Fraternizing with the enemy Hermione?" Harry said shaking his head. "I would have thought better of you."

"I don't know…"she stopped feeling a pressing within her mind. She pushed the feeling back. Harry broke eye contact with her.

"Remember…I have that little talent too…so when I felt you digging around my thoughts I figured I should check up on yours, since the sudden appearance of Legimency is rather rare. And imagine what I felt, what I saw…" Hermione felt chills, worse than she had upon meeting the Dark Lord, "You've been a very bad girl Hermione."

"Harry you're frightening me…if you saw what I think you did, then you realize I had no idea who he was." Hermione said panicking. "And that I defended our cause."

"You know what I felt in your mind Hermione?" Harry's eyes were glowing, "Doubt. I think you're ready to become a traitor, and we can't have that."

Hermione froze…what was he saying…what did he mean…oh gods… "Petrificus Totalus" she spoke pointing her want at Harry; he stopped in his tracks. He looked at her with fury. She had no clue what to do. She wasn't a traitor. Harry had gone mad. "Harry…I would never betray you, you need to listen to me, I don't know what's wrong with you, perhaps it's the stress from the war…"

"I swear to the gods Hermione when I break free…" he was enraged.

"Harry…listen to me..." Hermione pleaded.

"NO!" Harry screamed, "You listen to me, we have no room for spies and traitors."

"No…you already forced Ginny to take that role." Hermione said sadly.

"Ginny carries her burden willingly, as you know." Harry said coldly.

"You've changed Harry…you're not better than him anymore." Hermione whispered

"I told you…you're a filthy mudblood traitor." Harry spat at her.

"And you're just another power hungry, insane monster. I'm done fighting." She turned to walk away.

"Don't expect us to protect you when he comes after you!" Harry screamed straining his face to move."

"I don't." She left. She ran down the streets of muggle London trying to get lost. There was thick fog, it was warm and humid, rain fell gently splashing her face making tears invisible.

She dug her hands into her pockets, she had a fair amount of wizard money, and a bit of muggle money as well. She saw a small inn at the corner of the cobblestone street; she was in an area of equivalent danger to where she had been earlier that night. Just now instead of the killing curse she had knives and guns to watch for. She entered the inn giving what she had left of muggle money to just cover the charge for a night's stay. She needed a night away from the wizarding world to figure out what to do.

Her room was small with graying herringbone wood floors. The walls were the dingy shade of gray. It smelled faintly sweet, dusty, but had traces lavender, or perhaps sage.

She looked at the bed, it certainly did not look sanitary, "Scourgify" Satisfied she plopped down on the bed sleeping with her face down, pillow over her head.

She slept fretfully, her dreams plagued with images. _Red eyes…Green eyes…Live eyes…Dead eyes…A flash of green light coming at her…No…Coming from her…A throne…A prison…Ginny and Malfoy…Ginny and Harry…Voldemort…Red eyes smiling at her…Welcoming her…Giving her knowledge…_

She awoke to the tapping of a non-descript brown owl with yellow eyes on her window. It carried a rolled sheet of parchment into the room dropping it at Hermione's feet then leaving immediately.

The seal was unfamiliar to her, a quill and wand intersecting, with a snake intertwining them. The wax was a deep green. Carefully she opened the letter, peeling the seal of gently and setting it on her nightstand.

_H,_

_I hear Potter's disowned you. Pity. It truly is his loss though. Perhaps you'd like to meet again tonight, the same place. I know **so very few** that can keep an interesting conversation and you'd hardly be betraying your precious order anymore. Besides, I believe I have a proposition that may interest you._

_- V_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Don't own HP. **

**Author's Note:** Sorry it's been a while, I was having a major case of writer's block. However updates should be coming frequently. Short chapter, but no other cut off felt right.

A proposition, she couldn't deny the first emotion that struck her was curiosity. Followed quickly by disgust. How could she even consider meeting with him again? The first time was an accident, a horrible mistake, god she had even kissed that monster. No, what she needed to do was figure out what to do.

With a stab of pain she wished Dumbledore was still there. Even if Harry had cast her out as a traitor Dumbledore would've still understood. Now there was no one. They'd all believe Harry over her, after all he was the savior, and she was just some muggle born.

_He understands though. He knows what its like to want more, to want to be someone._

_Yeah…but that's not the kind of someone you want to be. He's a murderer._

_That doesn't mean I have to be. I could at least listen to his offer. If its not what I want I could leave. He can't force me to do anything. No one can._

_He could kill you._

And suddenly she realized. She really didn't care. If she was killed for rejecting Voldemort's proposal, so be it. She wasn't sure what she was living for anyway.

Thoughts whispered back, _"Power…Knowledge…Love…the love of magic"_

She took out a quill and quickly scripted a response.

_V,_

_I know it's there loss. It never crossed my mind otherwise. I'll see you at 11:00 sharp. I don't wait._

_-H_

She sealed it with a simple gold seal, the last thing she needed was the order to intercept a letter with her seal and trace it to Voldemort. She handed it back to the owl who had been impatiently pecking her shoulder. With a flourish of mottled brown it was gone.

She sank against the wall in exhaustion. Whoever thought a life could change so completely in just a few hours. She needed a hot bath. Her favorite muggle author Sylvia Plath once said, "There must be a few things a hot bath can't cure…But I can't think of any." Though Hermione had her doubts on that one, after all, Plath was a suicide.

She ran the water adding a bit of the lavender and sage potpourri she had traced the lingering scent from the bedroom to. The sweet, earthy aroma relaxed her lungs. The bath finally ready she stuck the tips of her fingers to test the waters. Just how she liked it, hot enough to feel like she was burning, without it actually being so. Carefully she slid her left leg in up to her knee, straddling the tub in an attempt to balance. The water had no mercy, her leg tingled painfully begging her to take it out, but she was strong. She plunged the other leg in, sitting on the edge of the bath. She bit her lip…it was a pleasant pain though, it took her thoughts away from darker places. Taking a deep breath she lowered herself in to her waist. A slight whimper escaped her lips, followed momentarily by a long sigh. She turned so she could stretch her limbs out, the fiery water spreading up to her neck. Eyes closed her mind slipped into day dreams. Her finger tips grazed across her neck and she let out a longer sigh. An image slipped into her mind a tall man with sweeping sable hair and intense mahogany eyes. He was a sight for sore eyes all right. Finely sculpted angular face, perfect cream skin, plain gray robes, a charming half smile.

_Hermione…_

"Hmm.." she sighed.

_Hermione…I need your help_

"What?" she said sluggishly. She opened her eyes and screamed.

Ginny screamed back in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione said to Ginny's back as she stepped out of the bath wrapping a towel around herself.

"I heard what happened and I knew it couldn't be true. I knew there must be something else going on…Harry…he's changed." she spoke somberly.

"So have I." Hermione replied. "If Harry says the Order has no use for me so be it. We're no better than our enemies anymore."

"That's not true." Ginny said in a half whisper. "The things Malfoy tells me of. The tortures. They're worse than we ever imagined. Their rituals…it's dark magic Hermione. Darker than I ever thought could exist."

Hermione could only imagine the hideous, horrible, fascinating magics Ginny spoke of. Though the idea of tortures were beginning to frighten her slightly. "Wait a minute...How did you find me anyway?" she asked with a tone of nervousness. If Ginny knew her location Harry might too.

"Actually that's why I need to talk to you." Ginny's face now carried an unusual expression. "He knew from his lord."

Hermione knew her face must betray everything. She felt her color drain away. "Is that so?"

"Yes, and imagine, Harry tells me you betrayed the Order to Voldemort. Then Malfoy tells me, his Lord has took a sudden interest in you." Ginny shook her head. "So tell me what's really going on."

Hermione took a deep breath and relayed her story from the top, stopping before she received the letter from Voldemort. Something about revealing that bit of information didn't feel right.

Ginny let out a long sigh, "And I thought I got myself into a situation."

Hermione laugh and ran a hand over her forehead grabbing her soaking mass of hair. Ginny let out a tired little laugh too.

"Let's just get the hell out of here. We'll run to America or something." she said half seriously.

"Gin… I don't think that's an option for either of us anymore." Hermione said sighing. She felt a sharp pain on her wrist and Ginny winced mutually.

"Harry…" Ginny whispered sadly.

Hermione nodded. "Are you going?"

"I have to. I won't mention seeing you. Don't worry." Hermione looked at her friends face. She looked gaunt and deep charcoal circles shadowed her eyes.

"Well I don't know that it'll matter. He has his ways of finding things out."

"And I have my ways of stopping that. I'm a spy remember. I've been trained in Occlumency."

Hermione smiled. "Take care Gin. I'll try and figure a way out of this shit for you."

Ginny smiled a little then her face darkened. "I should say the same for you. You're the one who may really be in danger. Remember Hermione, Voldemort's specialty is charming people. You wouldn't be the first to fall into his trap. Hermione gave her a slight nod and a quick hug before she apparated away.

She changed back into her jeans and plain gray turtle neck and transfigured her robes into a long leather coat. Her hair pulled back into a messy bun she went to the checkout.

After a few hours spent in a near by café reading and sipping at coffee it was beginning to go dark. She checked a clock. Eight o'clock, she could probably apparate to Diagon alley, stop at Gringotts and buy a new pair of robes with time to spare before her meeting.

Her trip to Gringotts was uneventful aside from a chance meeting with Blaze Zabini who gave her a sly smile. Instead of the usual, "you're dead mud blood." That made her a little uncomfortable but increased her curiosity of tonight.

She visited Madame Malkin's and bought an elegant charcoal gray robe embroidered with a simple defensive spell in thin silver lines.

From there she was unsure what to do with the next hour. She decided to start walking towards the meeting spot. Which meant traveling down Knockturn alley. Not a safe idea with Aurors roaming about. Especially on the off chance that one might be a familiar face. She decided to cast a subtle charm to change her appearance making her look about ten years older, so she wouldn't be recognized as easy. She browsed a few shops along the way. Enjoying the freedom of being able to check out artifacts she had been forbidden from even thinking about for so long. The powers the held were impressive. She purchased a necklace from one shop that would burn the skin off the hands of a person that tried to touch her with malicious intent. She also could help but buy a spell book filled with ancient spells for the control and manipulation of nightmares.

She reached the bar at 10:45 and glanced around finding no sight of her guest. She took a seat and began reading her new book. A few minutes she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder and turned around.

"If you really are interested in that subject, you ought to know, the author of that book was more of a thief than the Romans, and much worse at reassembling his information. Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw's original texts are far more accurate and delve deeper into the issue of control." he finished in a slow drawl.

Hermione tried to control her jaw from the slight drop that begun. The man who had appeared in her mind earlier now stood before her, but the voice, she remembered that from last night.

"Hello Voldemort. You're right on time."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: Don't own HP. Though I really wish I did…ahh Hawaii would be rather nice now.

**Author's Note: **Update! Um….sort of on the short side. Sorry, but I only have so much time, and I got to a point where I really wanted to put it up.

**Chapter 4**

"May I?" Voldemort gestured towards the chair seated across from Hermione.

"Of course." she said distractedly, still examining his appearance.

"I see you opted for a little cosmetic change for the occasion as well." He smirked. "Better not to be recognized fraternizing with You- Know- Who. Though you look quite…appropriate. Sophisticated, let me guess the charm ages you to…hmm… thirty?"

"Its rude to ask a woman such things." She said with a little laugh. "So shall we order drinks and then get down to your proposal."

"All business, no pleasure. I know the type. I myself was once one. What you must learn child, is that there is an eternity to gain power and knowledge. If you don't take time to enjoy it, you mind as well just live like mortals." A strand of jet black delicately hung in a loose curse down his forehead. He looked devilishly innocent. Hermione felt uncomfortably warm.

"Yes well. I am mortal. Until that changes, I won't get ahead of myself." she replied staring at the dingy sheet of paper that appeared to be a menu.

"I wouldn't touch the food here." Voldemort said with a grimace of sorts.

"Well I'm rather hungry, so I think I'll chance it."

"Or we could just order a drink and talk, then get food and talk business somewhere your palette will actually be satisfied." His voice sounded genuine and his mahogany eyes looked more soft than intense in this lighting. But somewhere in the back of her mind she heard Ginny's voice, "_Charming people is his specialty"_

"It's alright. I'll just eat when I get home." Hermione replied cautiously. A waiter had finally made his way to the table. He stared curiously. As if trying to place the faces.

"I'll have a glass of water." Voldemort said with a half smile, eyes locked with Hermione.

"And I'll have a honey bee." Hermione added, trying to figure out what Voldemort was up to.

"A honey bee?" he asked with a smirk after the waiter left.

"A Half a glass of butter beer for the honey, and a shot of fire whiskey for the bee." Hermione smiled. "It was my first drink I ever ordered, after seeing Remus order it so many…" she paused with an uncomfortable look.

"I don't mind if you talk about your friends. They're my enemies, yes. But that's a war. It's not really against the specific people. It's all just ideology." The waiter returned with their drinks.

"I feel like a bit of a lush with you ordering water." Hermione joked.

"Well then we'll have to change that." Voldemort smiled and Hermione felt slight chills that she tried to ignore. "Are you religious?"

"I was raised Christian." Hermione replied awkwardly. She had been unsure of what she actually believed for a long time now.

"So was I. At the orphanage. They taught us of all Christ's miracles and how he died to save humanity. I never understood that though. Even as a young boy. Why die to save those who have no appreciation for you, for your power? Why die for a bunch of fools?" his voice lost most of the warmth and Hermione felt herself entranced, yet frightened.

He took a breath and looked up at Hermione smiling. "Then imagine when I learn." He waved a wandless hand above the water and Hermione gasped as the clear liquid turned to a deep red. "I could perform miracles too. I learnt the amazing powers supposedly reserved for God was achievable by a mortal."

Hermione stared at the wine still. "You…performed wandless transfiguration."

Voldemort chuckled. It was an unusually pleasant noise. Deep and sensual. "Power. I can perform a great deal of wandless magic. Though admittedly it takes great concentration. Concentration not always available in battle."

Hermione still stared captivated like a small child before fireworks. "You can teach me this?"

His expression changed slightly. Taken off guard, "Well perhaps we ought to get to the proposal."

Hermione straightened up and took a long sip of her drink as Voldemort did the same.

"Essentially what I need from you is an assistant of sorts." Hermione frowned. "No its not as dull as it seems. If you prefer you may think of it as an apprenticeship. Aside from world domination, the war, and the other subtleties of my life, my real work is in research, developing and expanding magic."

Hermione was intrigued, she nodded. Admittedly, she had never imagined there was more to the dark lord's life than torture and murder.

"It seems that this war is becoming time consuming. I've been on a break of sorts for a while now, leaving my more capable Death Eaters in charge. I've begun some really interesting research into the core of magic itself. Seeing how it can be altered, strengthened, transferred, things along those lines." He had a sort of relaxed appearance now. It was apparent this is where his true passion lied. This also explained his disappearing act, and the more violent, sporadic Death Eater attacks.

"I feel the need to become more directly involved in the war for now, at least politically. Things are changing and strategy is…" he paused looking uncomfortable now.

"It seems we still have the issue of trust here. It would be difficult to work in a partnership with no trust." Hermione said steadily.

Voldemort nodded in agreement and a pensive look took over his face. "I think I have a solution."

Hermione nodded slightly, trying not to appear overly interested.

"This war has been a large part of both of our lives. In many ways it has ran our lives. However, I believe we shall have this partnership. The war will simply cease to exist when we are working together."

"I don't think it can be that simple." Hermione said doubtfully.

"I believe it can." Voldemort said with the slightest smile. "For instance. I haven't killed you. Despite the fact that you're muggle born and were a once member of my greatest enemies the Order of the Phoenix."

"Yes." Hermione said quietly now looking directly at Voldemort, "And why is that?"

"Because it would be a waste of intelligence. It would be letting power slip away, for some simple vendetta." he smirked, "I'm much more complicated than that."

Hermione tried to stifle a laugh at that last comment. "Well then, I suppose there's only one thing to say."

"And what is that?" Voldemort replied leaning back slightly.

Holding out her glass with the same half smile she had seen from him she replied, "Cheers."


	5. Chapter 5

The past week seemed to happen in slow motion. Many made good on their word. The wizarding world's wedding of the year had been announced for the end of May, two short months from now. Harry orchestrated a brute force slaughter of the Death Eater training camp, except when it became apparent that an awful lot of them were hardly adults, more like third and fourth years from Hogwarts Tonks called the operation off. Harry hadn't heard…or so he said in papers, he killed seven children, all for the sake of good of course. She laughed bitterly, what had they all become? She was due to meet Voldemort in ten minutes at a workshop of some sort, she had no idea where it was since she would be traveling by portkey, his preferred method for the sake of anonymity, they still had quite a few kinks in the trust issue. Voldemort had certainly made good on his promise to become more politically involved.

Three nights ago he created some type of spell that high jacked every television in the wizarding community and broadcasted a direct message from him. It was something along the lines of, "Hello, sorry to terrify any children, or parents I suppose. Your little hero Harry Potter has committed an atrocious crime against my men, and though I know I am not one to gain sympathy, these faces may (flashes of faces of dead children). Potter you will come and personally apologize for this. Or perhaps your side would like to see how it feels to lose an innocent little one. One each night until we speak. Now back to scheduled programming, sleep soundly young ones, for tonight may be your last.

There had not been any reported deaths of children yet. And Hermione was positive Harry had not gone to apologize, as he often said, the Order of the Phoenix does not negotiate with terrorists. She would have to ask Voldemort what was happening with that. Though she imagined it may fall into the category of thing involved with the war, making it a forbidden topic.

Hermione still was uncertain about the meeting, she knew he was an evil, evil, evil man and for all she knew her research and experiments were likely going to benefit him in exterminating her own, or committing more acts of violence. They had much to discuss, but talking won't hurt anything, she hadn't done anything wrong yet, she reassured herself. But that yet was beginning to haunt her.

The quill that had been sitting on her nightstand when she woke with a note attached to it gained her attention now, a phoenix feather, certainly not an ordinary portkey, Voldemort had some flair the dramatic she supposed. She sipped her coffee examining it from a distance, it was wound at the base with some shining fiber, she wanted to guess unicorn hair but she wasn't sure. Her coffee was cold, the third cup she had this morning, she ate just a bit of a cranberry scone, her stomach was too jittery to really handle food.

She looked at her cell again, checking the time nearly every minute. She had three missed calls from her parents. Since she moved them to another neighborhood and cast a whole new set of protective charms on the house they'd be wary, especially her mother. "Why aren't Harry and Ron here to help? Nothing bad's happened to them dear? Is the war getting worse? Is that what caused the explosion on the underground? They said it was a gas leak or electrical malfunction of some sort." She just shrugged it all of. Fed her mother minimal details. Her father's gaze told that he wasn't buying it for a moment, but he didn't make his thoughts known. Her alarm beeped letting her know it was one minute till portkey activation. She mentally prepared herself to any number of dark and twisted things she may bare witness to. Taking a deep breath she picked up the quill.

After the always nauseating venture portkey travel it took Hermione a few seconds to orientate herself and examine the situation. There was no sign of Voldemort at the moment, but there was more than enough to grab her attention. There was of course as she expected many, many books, picking one off the desk titled "Creation Theory, the Origin of Magic" she flipped through the book, it seemed mostly history, one page caught her eyes with a familiar scrolling script in the margins. The text seemed to be covering an obscure theory that seemed to say that the original wizard was a normal muggle man who came in contact with a demon through necromancy, which was an experimental, religious practice, and he ate the demon. Or at least that's what Hermione surmised it to mean, the text was written in Latin, and she was hardly an expert. In the margins Voldemort wrote, obviously physical consumption cannot transfer magical ability, spiritual/mind melding potentially though, so original demon would be passed through each wizard, common core, power transfer not stable, extract demon and intensify…. She closed the book quickly upon hearing the door open.

"Ah…terribly sorry to keep you waiting." There was no handsome disguise this time, however Hermione noticed it was not the same face she was accustomed to seeing in papers, it was much more…human.

She played stupid for her own benefit though. "Is the cosmetic aide really necessary in private? I have seen your true face, I assure you its nothing I can't tolerate."

"Please refrain from attempting to outwit me, you're a clever girl Hermione, but really, the most accomplished Legimens of this time stands before you and you try to play a game with him? If you must know, I've been experimenting on my anatomy trying to regain a small amount of humanity." She was startled by his openness. "Hermione, I will answer any question you ask , well almost. It is my assumption that under this arrangement you will not betray me. I have complete access to your thoughts, for instance the location of the lovely Dutch colonial style with the yellow siding your parents just moved into. You won't cross me, you have too much to lose."

He smiled. "But let's not dwell on such dark matters. If you'd like to know more about my personal experiments, or perhaps my thoughts on mind or power sharing please ask. Otherwise I'll give you a tour of my, what's the muggle term?…vacation home, something of the sort. Its my monastery, my sanctuary, where I can separate myself from the stresses of the war and enjoy my passion…magic of course."

Hermione tried to hide any sense of fear and attempted to close off her mind, but she wasn't sure how well she could guard herself against him. "And if you could please refrain from making threats against my loved ones, perhaps we would be able to work a little more…peacefully." she gave him a level gaze. "I know you are a powerful man, but do not underestimate me. I'm more than just a clever girl. I'm a talented witch and though it would be foolish of me to say I could do you real harm, I do know the Unforgivables, and I have used them, many, many times." she tried to sound as confident as possible but her voice quivered just slightly the entire time.

The cold, shrill laughter pierced the stillness of the room like a sharpened dagger. "Oh my, this banter is quite delightful wouldn't you say. Here we are, in a location only I know, with full shields against apparation, and no exits to speak for that you know, and you threaten me?" he smiled slightly. "You do have some Gryffindor in you, splendid child, this should be a great partnership."

Uncertain how to respond Hermione strode past him avoiding eye contact and began to examine the room more thoroughly. All dark stone, floors, walls, and ceiling, the room had a damp musk to it, almost like the Syltherin common room. It was decorated simply, torches and old crumbling stone divans. There was one portrait, Salazar Syltherin in emerald robes, his dark penetrating gaze followed Hermione around the room.

"Any guesses yet?" he was still smiling slightly, "You're getting warm Hermione, why don't you say it?"

"We're in Hogwarts…no, never mind, you aren't stupid, we have aurors all over this place."

"We have aurors all over this place? You've rejoined the Order?" still smirking, it was practically grown into a grin.

Hermione flinched for a moment. "They…they have aurors in Hogwarts. No but we aren't in Hogwarts…is this a private home of Salazar Syltherin?"

The smile faded, "There you go…not a home really, actually these are his dungeons. This was the torture room. You wouldn't believe the cleaning charms it takes to removes ancient blood." he chuckled lightly sending chills up her spine.

"Charming…" Hermione muttered feeling unease.

"The protective charms on this place are incredible. Beyond my comprehension still…in fact that's one of many projects I'm working on." he approached her, "You look famished, eat something, it won't do to have you working in sub-par condition." An empty table was suddenly covered in a spread of muggle Chinese takeout, white paper cartons and all. "I assume this is to your liking, I must admit I cheated and peeked around at what you like." he gently tapped his wand on her forehead, it felt hot and cold at the same time on her skin.

She silently opened the cartons, lo mein and sweet and sour chicken, her favorites. "It's fine…um…thank you."

"But of course, I wouldn't have you thinking I'm a poor host, I so rarely entertain." he said dryly.

She swallowed a bite of food gaining some courage. "I can't imagine why, I'd think people were just dying to be in your company…oh wait, got that mixed up, they die once they're in your company." she continued eating her lo mein focusing intently on the cracks in the stone slab before her.

"You know its almost refreshing to be insulted. Though I admit thoughts of permanently sealing your pretty little lips are getting increasing difficult to push away.

Hermione ignored the remark the best she could but thoughts of their first encounter at the tavern crept to her mind. She found herself wishing he looked more like a snake monster and less like a man. Albeit a alabaster, angular, snake-like man. His nose had taken a sort of humanish shape, still rather flat, sharp slitted nostrils; his eyes glowed blood red, there was a trace of baby down hair on his head, slight swirling wisps of black. She was beginning to grow curious at the purpose of the transformation.

"So is it just aesthetic or is there more of a practical reason for the change of appearance?" she asked twirling her fork around the noodles.

"It seems that fear is not enough to win certain people to my cause, you may be surprised that some find my appearance, freakish. Well, since cosmetic charms are not permitted in certain forums, I am attempting to salvage the bits of humanity that won't do me much damage."

"Are you actually part snake or something, I heard rumors of rituals…." Hermione's voice carried away.

"There were rituals." he paused , it looked as though he was debating continuing, "that should suffice."

"Mmhmm…so the almighty dark lord gives in to peer pressure to conform to the physicality society expects…interesting."

"Hardly, politics is a game child, and in games sometimes following the rules is the best course of action. Especially if you don't want to step on the toes of other players." he grabbed a piece of chicken out of the carton and took the tiniest nibble off the edge. After tasting it for a few seconds he popped the rest in his mouth. "Not bad for muggle food."

"Technically its wizard food, you created it with magic." she replied.

"No, this is wizard food." He walked over to a gold dish and picked up a tart, glittering with sugar. "Try this…" He sat across her watching, waiting.

"What is this going to make me grow wings or something?" she laughed. "I've had things like this before."

"No…you haven't." she could've swore his eyes carried a mischievous glint. "Trust me…you'll enjoy it."

She broke it in half, "Eat it first then."

"Fine." he ate it slowly then took a sip from a flask he carried in his robe. "Delicious."

Warily Hermione took a bite. It tasted like Christmas morning when she was five; warm, fuzzy, pure in a way. Her skin began to feel like she was sunbathing, it was almost uncomfortable. She cast a cooling charm on herself but nothing happened, her blood was at a low boil. "You're wrong this is not enjoyable, I don't think I have the same reaction as you to these."

"No…not yet. Patience." He was staring at his palms intently avoiding her eyes.

She was fully flushed now, the room was bright, too bright, her eyes were growing to sensitive to the light. Her face felt clammy to the touch. "I think I'm ill." she said nervously. This reminded her of the time Fred and George bought muggle drugs when they were going to a concert in London, they assured her over and over again it was no different than drinking a lot, something she was familiar enough with. But an hour after taking the small orange pill imprinted with a smiley face she could've killed them. If she could have stopped laughing and smiling. She never told anyone but that night she had a tryst with Charlie, she still felt guilty about it, especially knowing how Ron had a crush on her for so long.

"So much shame for such a proud woman." he said softly.

"Please stop reading my thoughts." she whispered. She was beginning to panic. She placed her hands on the table, leaned back and breathed deeply in and out.

"Want to see the magic part?" he spoke quietly seeing her obvious distress. She nodded slightly still taking deep breaths. "Close your eyes and imagine a place that brings you comfort." She thought of her room at Hogwarts, of carefree days, times when she was part of a group that loved her fiercely, a time she belonged. She opened her eyes. "Oh my." It was an identical replica of her bedroom as Head Girl down to the poster of the Weird Sisters and her flyers from S.P.E.W. in the corner. Voldemort picked one of these up.

"You must be joking." he said waving it before her eyes. His appearance was like that of the other night gentle curls of jet, soft white skin, but he looked young, not much older than her.

"How do you see me?" He asked curiously.

"Why?"

"The tarts make you experience whatever you desire. You can see, hear, feel whatever you want."

"Like the room of requirement." she said to herself.

"No, much more selfish, you don't have to need it, just desire it. Anything."

"How do I appear to you?" she asked curiously now.

"The same, well not quite, that foolish tattoo is gone." he said dismissively.

She was disturbed to see it absent on her own arm.

"I know how to get rid of that, of course if you're attached to it, I understand." she nodded lost in thought. She wondered how far the power went, if it was limited only to places she had seen, or if somehow she could just peek in his mind for a second…She closed her eyes again. Reopening them she stood in a large open court, a long black marble table with golden snakes emblazed on it stood center of the room. It vanished quickly replaced by the Headquarter of the Orders entrance way. She closed her eyes and reopened them to Syltherin's dungeon.

"If you keep challenging my trust…"He walked towards her slowly. "If you think its something I don't want to share, don't pry, I've given you that much respect…" His appearance remained the same but his eyes glowed red even through the illusion. "You are trying my patience." He grabbed her chin, she sucked in a sharp breath trying to avoid looking it to his eyes. "Do you understand Hermione. I could kill you now. And no one would know what happened, oh they might guess. But few will mourn a traitor's death."

She tore away and stood up. "I'm done here. I'm leaving. Let me leave."

"No, no, no sit down." he rubbed his temples . "I know a place you have to see…" She closed her eyes with him and reopened to a large study with windows thrown open letting in a light salty breeze of an ocean. There were rows and rows of books, old books, original copies of texts she'd only read about. A diary was open on a desk, the handwriting was familiar but she couldn't quite place it. Beside an inkpot laid a strong, shining eagle's feather.

"Rowena Ravenclaw's hideout….the one she went to when she went mad?"

"Misconception….she didn't go mad, she just preferred people believe that to the truth." he said with a slight smile. "Its practically a Jane Austen tale."

She looked up surprised at the reference then picked up the diary gingerly. Damn him, he kept getting the best of her curiosity, he knew she was weak there. She couldn't resist staying to look around. She walked out a door that led to a small balcony. This must have been where she jumped. Hermione shuddered, it was known in the wizarding world that Rowena Ravenclaw died of a broken heart, but she had heard her ghost haunted somewhere in this cliffside The craggy stark white limestone was in full contrast to the deep blue-black stormy waters that churned with the rage of a scorned lover. Taking a deep breath of the sweet salty air Hermione lied back and opened the diary.

Voldemort stood from the door looking over at Hermione, she seemed calm now, but he needed her to be fully invested in this project, she couldn't go running off every time he became angry or they would never accomplish what he needed. "I'll leave you to your reading… Come back inside when you're ready to work. Hopefully you will see why I was so enticed to work with you."


	6. Chapter 6

**I Prefer Lord**

**Disclaimer**: No Ownership of HP.

**Author's Note**: Thanks for reviews, they help alllllot so make sure to review if you have time. Thanks!

Chapter 6

_Day1_

_I have come to the little home he has on the coast side to begin working on the experiment. He said he thought it would suit my temperament, and of course he is right. It astounds me how he knows me so very well. It's a very small cottage the floors are white washed wood the walls are a lovely flint blue,. There are many windows with lacy curtains, its very charming. He's not here of course, we couldn't be seen traveling out at the same time. Everyone's quite concerned I've gone made from Helena's death…I feel like I should be… I feel guilty to feel this alive, but this theory of his has resurrected me. For months I thought nothing could bring me out of the darkness, nothing could even begin to fill the void where my daughter was in my life. If I'd only know that boy was a damned maniac…_

_I must try not to dwell on all that…it will distract me from what I'm here to do, harvest pure magic energy for study. To discover the source of magic, its going to be fascinating work….the I must admit I have my reservations to work with him, Godric certainly would never have allowed this project. But its only for study, so we can learn the origin perhaps, there is no malevolent intent I'm certain. I know he's a skilled Legimens, but he's not the only one with that talent…._

_Besides I've thought it over and if I become suspicious he is going to use our findings to promote his little purification cause I'll go to Godric with the whole thing. I may be persecuted for helping him, but they all think I'm a mad woman anyway, what's there to lose… I can't exactly articulate why, but I trust him this time, he has been very forthcoming with information and seems to genuinely want my help, no other mind would compliment his as well he tells me…if I didn't know better I'd think he was trying seduce me…_

Hermione closed the diary, there was still many pages to read but she needed to know something for sure. She quietly entered the study and walked over to the table where Voldemort sat and took the seat across from him. "The "he" in her diary…Salazar Slytherin?"

Voldemort stood and walked over to a dusty set of parchments, he handed them to her, one appeared to be a deed, on the title the signature she expected appeared.

"Well…the history books are certainly missing this chapter." she said mind reeling with the new discovery.

"Not quite." he said evenly. "You see I became suspicious when I discovered personal notes of Slytherin's in the Chamber of Secrets on this topic, but they were missing a great deal of concrete ground, more theory scribbles. I dated it in Hogwarts a history to around the time Ravenclaw's daughter was murdered, before she went into seclusion. The notes mentioned asking her for thoughts on the subject. I assumed the only person Slytherin would go to would have to be someone of great wisdom, someone he thought he may be able to trust. This was the time Gryffindor was running his inquisition against the purebloods for trying to keep the sanctity of…" Hermione was staring at him brows lowered, a slight scowl beginning to form.

"What…what were you going to say? Poor Slytherin was being hunted for trying to rid Hogwarts of the mud blood scums? Something along those lines?" she stood nearly shaking in anger. She was being foolish to think that there could ever be any partnership between them, in fact she wondered in such a short time how she was beginning to even forget all the evil he stood for. She needed to end this before she became even more entranced, it was too easy to fall under his spell, the same way she had fallen asleep, face buried in books of the dark arts so many times working for the Order.

"Hermione, I'm…I…" he sighed slightly and cleared his throat. "Would I have brought you here, showed you all this, told you secrets my closest Death Eaters know nothing of, if I thought you were "mud blood scum" as you so delicately put it…" He stood to now, "No, I wouldn't have. Actually I find you nearly fascinating, you are everything I would normally despise. Usually I wouldn't even kill you for fear of contaminating myself with your blood." she looked outraged. "A muggle loving, Gryffindor, an activist for the liberation of house elves…" he almost laughed at the last part. "Instead I am captivated by your sharp wit, fierce bravery in the face of very present danger, and passionate spirit…" he touched her cheek lightly. "Yes the first time I spoke to you I knew you would be my Rowena, the intellect that would compliment mine perfectly. We see the world very differently, but we see more of it than anyone else." he pushed a loose tendril of hair from her face.

She could hardly breath with him so close, she could feel his breath, warm and wet on her face. His teeth were perfectly straight, like something from her parents' dental brochures. Her heart was beating so loud she was certain he could hear it.

"Minds like ours Hermione, they aren't satisfied with the mundanity of everyday life. We need more. We need excitement, challenge, we need to seek out the answers they create religion to explain, the things they call mysteries, we know they are waiting to be solved. You can see where I can't…And I have seen things your imagination is too innocent to dare to venture into." he made an "s" like curve down her cheek to her neck.

She swallowed nervously her skin was flushed and her face was warm. She wished he would just step back a little so she could think. Suddenly the entire house went black, she grabbed his robes for just a second then quickly recoiled as if they were poison. She felt him smiling in the darkness.

"Can you see Hermione?" he asked softly.

"No…what are you getting at." she asked cautiously.

"Luminos." he whispered. The room was suddenly blinding. She felt as if the stage lights had been put to max and all shone on her.

"Stop." she clenched her eyes shut. "It hurts.."

"Hermione man is blind in pure darkness and in pure light. But if you combine the two. Open your eyes."

The light had faded to normal, her eyes still stung. "I can see."

"Yes, and so I imagine that clarity will come for both of us as we've yet to experience if we can manage to work at this together." She nodded slightly trying to regain her thoughts.

"But you must, must, not go expressing certain ignorant opinions around me."

"Ignorant?" he scoffed looking shocked. "Choose your words more carefully, I have some…anger control issues, you might say."

"Really?" she said sarcastically. "Hadn't noticed at all." Suddenly she thought about those children and couldn't resist asking. "So have you killed any of those kids yet?"

He appeared taken off guard. "No…Not that I'd have an issue doing it. Well not me really, I don't kill all that often myself, I have Death Eaters to do that sort of thing. No it was more for the purpose of making a point, making a villain out of Potter, more politics"

She nodded, "Why can't we go to Rowena's actual hideout. This nice but knowing were still in Slytherin's dungeons, its not the same."

"The protective charms remember. Though we may have to make a visit…this place you see is how I saw it years ago, but anything I may not have discovered or taken notice of is absent. Perhaps you will see things I did not."

"So the enchantment in the tarts only can allow you to see a place the way you remember it?" she asked curiously, she imagined this was the case.

"Yes, like a Pensieve. That's where the idea came from." he said seeming lost in thought.

"Hmm...We should go there soon I think." she mused the walls would whisper the true stories, she'd love to soak up the little details that seemed absent now.

He shrugged, "We will make that our next meeting, before we get too deep into things. But I must leave now. The portkey will take you back to your previous location in five minutes. I'll contact you to meet again soon." The room appeared as the dungeon again and he was walking toward the statue of Slytherin. He whispered something in Parselmouth and the statue moved for a moment and replaced itself as he exited.

Hermione's mind was rushing with her new discoveries and thoughts of the potential of the ones to come. Bitterly she realized she was already to deep in to get out of this, the most she could tell herself was she could always turn herself in and give up all their research if she suspected something horrible was coming. Thinking back to what she read of Rowena's diary she felt a tinge of nervousness, Ravenclaw had died, presumably of a broken heart by history books. But the history books were missing a big piece of the story, a piece that perhaps told more of her death than anyone could have imagined. Yes, if she was Voldemort's Rowena she may have to start being a little more careful. If only there was someone she could talk to about all of this.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Update time, yay! Read, review, enjoy.

Chapter 7

Hermione stared at the empty glass for a long moment. Condensation was gathered on the outside, a long strand of brown hair clung to the rim. She picked it off throwing it on the dingy floor behind her. She dug through her purse looking for some more money.

Going to get a drink seemed like an innocent enough answer to her loneliness, and offered some small assurance of a heavy dreamless sleep. Opting to go to a muggle pub, to avoid any unpleasant interactions, she was now alone in a room full of strangers. A handsome muggle man, a few years older than her had just sat next to her at the bar. Though there were plenty of other spots, not to mention a few empty tables. She pretended not to notice him, ordering another gin and tonic. Still flipping through her jumbled purse, she looked up a moment later to see him handing the bar tender enough money for two drinks. Sighing she turned and thanked him, hoping to avoid mindless flirty banter.

"Don't mention it." He said smoothly. "Name's Jack by the way."

"Jane." Hermione smiled slightly slipping into old habits, fake names, subtle smirks; it might be fun to flirt a little, on second thought.

"Jane…hm…so what does Jane do for a living?" he flashed a set of neon whites. A stark contrast on his slight orangey complexion, fake tan she supposed.

"Sales marketing, dull stuff…" he nodded.

"I'm a professional athlete." He said non-chalant.

"Really?" Hermione hadn't watched any sport but Quidditch in the past few years, and that was only a few times under force of the boys.

"Yeah, rugby, s'pose you don't recognize me?" he seemed somehow satisfied by that fact.

"No, not much a sports person." She replied lightly.

"Excuse me a moment Jack." She stood to go to the restrooms, she had begun to get rather heavy headed, they must really give you your money's worth at this pub she thought sleepily. She splashed some water on her face feeling a bit of refreshment. Going back to the bar she saw Jack putting on his coat.

"Jane, want to join me out for a cig?" he regarded her with sweet green eyes, eyes that felt familiar for a moment.

"No, I'm fine." She replied feeling a stronger wave of heavy headedness overtake her.

"You don't look so good, a little air might do you well." He sounded concerned. She did feel a little off, she should probably go home anyway.

"I think I will, I need to get home soon anyway."

She followed Jack towards the bench at the side of the building; by time she sat down she suspected something was seriously wrong. She could keep her eyes open her lids felt as if they weighed a ton. She heard Jack laugh, not the smooth light chuckle from earlier, this held a more sinister sound.

"Sleepy, Jane?" Hermione fumbled through her purse for her wand but he grabbed her wrists hard.

She slipped into blackness.

She opened her eyes to a kind, familiar, and wholly unexpected face.

"Ginny…" she croaked weakly. "What on Earth happened?" The last thing she remembered was getting home from the meeting with Voldemort; she cast out the thought, though Ginny was likely enough aware of it already.

"Well…" she struggled for a moment staring at the floor. "You were targeted by the Order."

She reeled for a moment.

"Not the Order really, more like Harry."

"I…Harry…what?" jumbled thoughts began to return, the muggle bar, the dizziness, friendly Jack, the sinister laugh, his eyes….green and so familiar.

"Oh god…" she whispered. "What happened? How did I get here? Does he know I'm here?"

"No, Harry has no idea where you were taken. He might have suspicions, but no one will confirm those." She looked seriously at Hermione for a moment. "I promise, no one will tell him." Hermione nodded, understanding the difficult position this put Ginny into.

"Now as to what happened, Harry apparently fearing you were divulging important information to the enemy decided he would take care of you himself. To prevent it from being traced to him, he drugged you with a muggle sedative and was prepared to dispose of you by muggle means." Ginny relayed the information emotionlessly.

"I can't believe this…"Hermione felt tears brimming her eyes, nearly catapulting over her lashes.

"Yes well, it is rather traditional to kill members of an army who were privy to key secrets and go to the other side." Ginny replied in the same monotone.

Hermione scoffed, "Oh yes, I suppose I just had this coming to me."

Ginny looked broken. "I don't know what you're up to Hermione but I know it's serious. Voldemort doesn't have just anyone followed by a guard."

"A what?!?" she shrieked.

"Two wizards followed you into that bar, one was Harry, one was a Death Eater, my fiancé more specifically. Imagine when he comes home all bloodied up from a duel with Harry, carrying you of all people." She shook her head, tears already staining her cheeks, her eyes ringed by heavy black circles and her complexion pale. "Nothing makes sense anymore."

"Malfoy beat Harry at a duel?" Hermione was now incredulous, Harry was masterful, she had no idea Malfoy would be able to keep at his level.

"He called for backup; Goyle came and distracted Harry so he could escape with you." Ginny sat down beside Hermione who now was upright curled into a tight ball.

"And you know what the worst part of all of this is? Far beyond you fraternizing with Voldemort, Harry trying to kill you secretly behind the Order's back like a common muggle murderer, or even the fact that I'm going to have to lie to the Order again." The tears had already started to pour out of her eyes and she was visibly shaking.

"When I heard the back up call, I was scared, I didn't know he was detailed on guard to you, but I knew it was someone high on the priority list. I was absolutely terrified….I was scared, not that a member of the Order may have been the one attacking him, that it may have been my own brother battling Malfoy. No I was afraid he might get killed…I think I've fallen in love with him for real." Her sobbing turned heavy, her whole shook, and Hermione hugged her tightly unsure of what to say.

"Oh Ginny it could be so much worse, you could be falling in love with Voldemort." Ginny stiffened immediately and pulled back wiping her eyes, mascara smeared across her face.

"Hermione you are not falling in love with Voldemort." She said seriously. "I don't know what it is that is going on between the two of you that has you placed so high on the priority list, but you are not falling in love with him. He is a monster, he hates everything you stand for, he is charming you, manipulating you."

"I know I'm not…but you could be. So it could be worse." She tried to laugh. She wasn't sure why she had said that, it surely wasn't true. She didn't think she even had the ability to love someone like him. She was trying to make Ginny feel better. Her subconscious began to venture down other possibilities, but she cut those off quickly.

Ginny didn't laugh but smiled ever so slightly. "Yes I suppose I could be. But still don't you realize what this means. I don't think I can remain in the Order, I still love Harry more than words can describe but…I think that Harry may be lost anyway."

"You were asked to pretend to be in love with someone, to marry them, to be the closest person in their life, no one can blame you for falling into your part."

Ginny nodded slightly, "They will blame me still, they will shun me, but you know what…oh well. You know even though he participates in a lot of the evil thing they do, he doesn't usually enjoy it. I mean there are times, people he specifically hates for reasons beyond blood and alliance, but for the most part it's just part of the territory to him. Plus he's been exposed to it all since he was a child. He already swore to me he doesn't want our children raised into being Death Eaters."

Hermione was surprised by Ginny's sudden openness about the subject. For the next ten minutes she told Hermione a multitude of things she would never have imagined about Malfoy. That he secretly had an obsession with muggle science fiction novels and his father would beat him when he found them hidden under his bed. That he wrote Ginny poems and left them hidden throughout the house for her. That he cooked dinners for the two of them without magic sometimes. That he hated his father more than Harry Potter.

"It feels so good to finally be able to tell someone about this. It's been awful keeping it inside, having no one to share my thoughts with openly." Ginny was smiling.

Hermione nodded, she understood all too well what Ginny meant. "I'm glad you're happy Gin, you deserve it, you really do." The sound or smooth measured footsteps followed by scurrying little ones came from the hallway leading into the parlor they sat in.

"That'll be Draco and Skip now." Ginny stood up quickly cleaning and reapplying her makeup via her wand and the reflective black marble coffee table.

Malfoy looked disheveled. His silver blond mane had a large streak of noticeably whiter hair running through it. He too had heavy bags under his eyes. "Hello Hermione, feeling better I assume." His voice was cold as ever, then he turned and regarded Ginny and she saw the façade break for the slightest moment. He looked as broken and tired as she did.

"Hermione I will need you to let Ginny excuse herself for a moment; I need to discuss something important with her in private. Skip can take care of anything you need. She looked at the house elf in rags sadly. Malfoy chuckled instantly, "Oh yes, you have that ridiculous aversion to House Elves."

The tiny creature regarded her with mortified eyes, "Oh Skip displeases Mater's guest. Oh why? No, No, No. Skip had done badly." He reached for a lamp and Hermione stopped him in fear of what he might do to himself.

"No Skip, everything is fine. I'll take tea and sugar thank you." Hermione said resignedly. She'd rather not accept his service but she was in no mood for stopping the antics her rejection would bring on.

"I'll be back shortly Hermione." Ginny said as she exited with Malfoy. Skip returned promptly with tea, he looked expectantly for Hermione to take a sip, she took a small one since it was hot and smiled and dismissed him. She swirled the spoon around idly wondering how she hadn't noticed Malfoy in the bar, she must learn to be more alert. Even if he used a cosmetic aid she obviously needed to be more aware of the possibility of that anywhere. It was a moment before she noticed someone sat in the chair across. Someone who had noiselessly entered the room somehow, someone who hardly breathed.

"Good to see you're alive." She recognized the voice immediately.

"Yes, I suppose I should thank you for having me stalked without my permission or notification." She said dryly.

"My pleasure. You really ought to be more careful though, what are you doing going to muggle bars accepting drinks from strange men anyway? I thought you were smarter than that." He added smugly.

"I was trying to get laid." She said taking a sip of tea afterword for casual effect.

Voldemort said nothing and remained unfazed. "Yes well, try to have better judgment next time. I can't be wasting Death Eaters every time you go looking for your husband at 2 for 1 ladies night special's in London's seediest pubs."

"Not husband, just sex." She looked him dead in the eye and he averted her eyes for a moment.

"Yes well, I can see you're in good enough spirits." He said seeming oddly edgy. "I was checking to see if you were recovered and you obviously are." He stood and exited briskly without a word. Malfoy literally sprinted in five seconds later.

"What was that about? What did you say?" Malfoy demanded.

"Nothing why?" Hermione looked innocently.

Malfoy's expression became stern. "He looked positively furious when he left. Hermione I will not allow you to stay in this house if you don't tell me what you said." He demanded like a petulant child.

"Goodness I just made a joke, he was taunting me and I gave him a reply he wasn't expecting to try to catch him off guard…He looked furious?" she asked curiously.

"What was the joke about?" Ginny asked cautiously.

"Um…well…sex." Hermione said now regretting ever having made the joke at all.

"Oh yes, I could see how you would expect that to go over well." Malfoy said sarcastically.

"It wasn't graphic or anything, he was making fun of me for going to a bar, getting drinks from someone I didn't know. I said I was trying to get laid. That's the gist of it. Nothing bad."

"Strange…"Ginny said. "I've heard much worse come out of some of your friends' mouths in front of the Dark Lord." She said looking to Malfoy.

He shrugged, "I suppose it was unrelated to Hermione's ridiculous comments, why would you say such a thing anyhow?" Malfoy's gaze was penetrating now.

"I don't know I thought I was being funny…" Hermione wondered what he was so mad about herself.

"Well I'm sure Hermione is famished and I've made supper, so how about stopping the inquisition for a few minutes and letting her eat." Ginny looked Malfoy in the eyes for one second and Hermione could see how deep their bond already was. He sighed and got up, sweeping out of the room. Leaving Ginny alone with Hermione, she sat across from her; in the seat that was occupied by a very different figure not so long ago.

Ginny looked her dead in the eyes taking a deep breath "No judging, but I think it's about time you fill me in on a few things Hermione."


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Yay, update. No time for good editing, wanted to put this up though. Will try to get back to it ASAP.

Discalimer: I do not, repeat, not, own HP.  glad to clear that up lol.

I Prefer Lord

Chapter 8

Hermione sighed leaning all the way back into the couch's deep downy cushions. She wished she could just sink into them and escape Ginny's piercing gaze.

"What do you want to know?" she tried to appear as calm as possible. She could imagine the things Ginny would want to know and she had just barely managed to convince herself the past month or so since the falling out with the Order had been reality.

"First off." Ginny leaned forward, the exhaustion painted on her face made her look so fragile, Hermione thought. She knew she wouldn't be able to lie to Ginny, legimens or not, she had been such a good friend to her through all of this. "Why did you contact him?"

"I didn't. He contacted me." Hermione remembered Ginny visiting her before she went to meet Voldemort. "That day you came to me when I was in the bath, and I seemed distracted, when you told me to be careful. I had received a letter from him asking me to meet him, that he had a proposition." Ginny looked incredulous but nodded Hermione on, seemingly speechless. "Well he offered me an apprenticeship sort of. It's not war related in the least bit. It's really rather fascinating stuff, you know the sort of thing I dreamed about doing when I graduated."

"Hermione, I need to be frank with you. Nothing he does, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, is NOT related to the war." Ginny rubbed her eyes with her thumb and index finger, her brow furrowing. "Now I can't really share any specific information with you, because he would know, but he has numerous side-projects. All of which could potentially be fascinating and intriguing for someone like you to work on, but they all have sinister ends, and so do his researcher "friends".

Hermione blanched. "Well I don't think this is like any of that. He doesn't share this project with Death Eaters." Ginny frowned.

"Hermione I must warn you, if you are found to be a member of any of the war projects, the Order will put money on your head. The wizards that participate in his experiments are enemies of the Order. Worse than that, he will kill you when you finish, you can bet on that. He's very secretive, he can't have anyone else knowing important classified information, you could betray, you've done it once already.

"I knew the risks Ginny." Hermione gazed past her out the window. "Besides I have the feeling that I don't have many options left in the wizarding world. Sure I could go live as a muggle, but…I never fit in there, this is my home. And if I go down in history books as a no good double crossing, depraved, lunatic, who did brilliant research and was subsequently murdered by the Dark Lord Voldemort, so be it."

"You are being ridiculous. A few options are closed for you, yes. You won't teach at Hogwarts or make it as an Auror. You are hardly the first prominent member of society to be linked to the Dark Lord. You are gambling with your life already, and your life is valuable Hermione. Don't doubt that for a moment." Ginny pulled up her sleeves showing her dark mark opposite her phoenix tattoo. "Don't you see Hermione the lines between good and evil have become so thin now it's all gray, you can slip through the gray, you can start over." Tears welled in Ginny's eyes. "It's not too late for you." Hermione embraced her tightly.

"It's not too late for you Ginny. You have a good hear. You know what's right for you. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." She let her go. "As for me and my heart, well, all I know is I'm sick of barely living, I feel like I have some purpose, I feel genuine excitement, and I'm not ready to let go of it. I'd rather die than go back to living like a zombie."

They continued to talk for a while then went to share an awkward, yet somehow pleasant dinner. Malfoy regarded her suspiciously the entire time, but said nothing to the effect, he didn't say much at all really, which in Hermione's book was a first. They exchanged goodbyes and Ginny pleaded with her once more to be careful She gave her as much assurance as she could manage.

Hermione attempted to apparate home only to wind up five or six blocks away. She walked briskly, feeling odd chills, likely from her run in with Harry. She hardly noticed her little apartment, it seemingly melded between the neighboring buildings, she wouldn't have seen it if she hadn't been looking for it. As she walked through her door she felt something akin to fuzzy electricity break apart as she crossed, she saw a faint shimmer meld back into a solid wall as she turned to examine the entryway. A letter was pinned by a large plastic Garfield magnet Ron had got her saying it reminded him of Crookshanks.

_H,_

_Decided to upgrade your security after your little incident. If you want to apparate you need to imagine the inside of you bedroom closet. It's the only apparate- safe zone. Also if you feel the need to bring in any guests you'll have to set a safe word for entry, I left instructions on how to set this, it could be quite painful for anyone besides you who decides to enter. _

_-V_

It had been over a month since she returned home. She had no communications from Voldemort or anyone from her old life at all. Her days had started to fall into a pattern. She woke up around eight in the morning and went straight out for a run. She ran for an hour or so, listening to her IPod, letting the fuzz of sleep clear from her mind. She showered upon return, set on the pot of coffee and cracked open a book with the morning news as background noise. This morning the ladies on the morning show were discussing their favorite holiday cookies and treats. Hermione sipped her coffee turning back to her book, Various Theories on the Origin of the Arcane by Theodorus Gilberstein. It was mostly theories she had already studied, but he had several interesting and at moments, rather inhuman experiments on squibs that made their way into the book. The friendly holiday story-sharing was interrupted by an emergency new bulletin. King's Cross was burning, raging in flames, people ran screaming, ordinary holiday travel suddenly a national tragedy. Hermione knew in her heart what was behind this before anything else had to be said. The commentator on the screen, a graying, pudgy man's face was beet red, his eyes protruding like a drowning fish garbled out panicked near sentences, "Green lights flashing, hooded men, people dropping like flies." Without a second thought at the fact that she had on underwear and a bathrobe and sopping wet hair, Hermione jumped up, apparating into the middle of the action.

Sure enough an all out battle, at the scope of nothing she had ever seen raged between Death Eaters, the Order, Aurors, and muggle police and now arriving military. Fire was beginning to consume outlying buildings, smoke was thick and choking. In the midst of the heaviest fighting Hermione saw Remus Lupin take out a large Death Eater, likely Goyle. Then within seconds the scene changed, his pupils dilated rapidly and a green glow engulfed him. He collapsed and in his wake she saw him standing there. His face was human, no not human, more than human, too perfectly crafted, as if he modeled the humanness off Da Vinci's paintings of the divine. He looked like a god. He stood tall and not frail and bent as he had appeared before, but strong and lithe. His robes billowed. She saw a curl of jet peek from his hood. His eyes glowed demon red. He smiled, pristine white teeth her parents would approve of. She drew her wand without a thought and screamed, "Avada Kedav…" He disarmed and stunned her with ease.

"Don't be a fool girl. I thought we had a good thing going." He sauntered towards her, battle raging around him, seemingly unfazed by the action. "Now I'm in a forgiving mood, for some odd reason, so I'm going to send you home and give you some time to think of your actions and give you an opportunity to apologize." He bent down and kissed the edge of her mouth slowly, his eyes glowing even brighter. "Really I'm doing you a favor; I can only imagine what things the others would do to you if they saw you in this condition. Unless of course you're still looking to get laid." He smirked as her eyes filled with horror. "No, I suppose I'll do my daily act of charity. Do dry your hair once the stun wears off. You'll catch a cold." He laughed and Hermione felt the sensation of apparating and opened her eyes to find herself in her closet.

It took hours for the spell to wear off, Hermione laid there crying silently. She couldn't make out the words on the television. Finally once it did she ran, falling several times, her legs wobbling like a new born fowl. The television showed the remains of King Cross, a victim of terrorism, apparently the green light beams were a new neuro-weapon that instantly and painlessly killed, at least that was theorized. No suspects were being named at the moment and UN conferences were being scheduled. She walked to the cabinet and took out a bottle of vodka she dumped a glass three quarters way full and pounded it like a racer drinks water crossing the finish. She gagged forcing her mouth to stay closed. She saw Remus dying in her mind, felt Voldemort's lips against hers, saw his face, beautiful, haunting. She went to the couch, turned off the television, and waited for sleep to overtake her.

She was awoken far too early by the sound of someone in her kitchen digging through her refrigerator. She jumped up fumbling for her wand in the blankets. Her legs got caught and she tripped falling flat on her face. She heard a cold, bemused voice from the kitchen, "Go put some clothes on you lush."

"Get out of here now!" she screamed. Her voice sounded foreign to her, warped by the heavy, heavy veil of alcohol, her goal was to numb her brain, and apparently it had been a success. She walked into her room and slammed the door. It was reopened a few minutes later and reclosed immediately.

"Really you need to cover yourself Hermione. Not that I would **ever **desire to violate your filthy mudblood body. But it's a bit….distracting; I need to discuss something important with you." She stood up laughing, hysterically, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh that's rich." She fell to the ground rolling.

"Hermione, quickly, it's urgent. I need you to compose yourself" he sighed. "It's too bad there's no scourgify for the liver." He pounded the door. "Hurry up woman, I'm serious."

She continued laughing. "This is the strangest dream I've ever had. The longest, strangest dream in history." She started to hiccup and the contents of her stomach made their way half up her throat. She threw the door open running to the toilet, not bother to close the door. From the hallway she distinctly heard gagging followed by the volume on the television being cranked up. Her stomach finally a little settled she got up and brushed her teeth sloppily, still extremely intoxicated. She walked out to the living room to find Voldemort sitting on her couch, pale skin tinged green. He looked slowly at her, seemingly nervous. He quickly averted his eyes and threw her a blanket.

"Cover yourself." He said emotionlessly.

"No." she walked to the fridge and took out some left over macaroni and cheese, perfect drunk food. She didn't bother to heat it.

"You have no food." He said conversationally, the television was off now but he stared at it anyway.

"You mean I have no food youshlike." She slurred. "Besides I thought snake men don't need food."

"Do I look like a snake still Hermione?" he said evenly.

She turned around slowly finally taking time to absorb his appearance fully, he looked young, too young for his age, yet she was certain it was not a cosmetic charm. "How did you do it?" she asked curiously, the fuzz of alcohol still blocking recent events from hitting her, leaving her completely utterly in the moment, with no context of anything else.

"I don't know. That's the problem. I've been doing so many cosmetic experiments, none very successful, effective only for hours usually, then reverting" he took a deep breath. "Then to my astonishment I began to sleep, really sleep, for hours."

"You didn't sleep before?" she asked a little astonished in between bites of Mac and cheese.

"Not for years and years. Long enough that I hadn't remembered that fuzzy, refreshed feeling of waking up. And worse I awoke to a sound I hadn't heard since my mid-twenties. My stomach growling."

"The cosmetic spells shouldn't have affected anything like that though. It doesn't make sense."

"Really?" he growled. "I hadn't made that obvious observation."

"Stop being a grouchy baby." She mumbled standing up to put her dish in the sink. She washed her dish. And put on a new pot of coffee. She yelped turning around to see him sitting on her counter watching her closely. Slowly a memory from early crept back, his lips soft as silk against hers. Suddenly his adamancy of her being dressed made sense, she was aware from various sources the Dark Lord was asexual not experience attraction to the most desirable of human companions, love was nothing more than a tool for manipulation to him. "So you're hungry in more than one way hmm?"

His brow furrowed, "This isn't a joke, nor is it specifically your concern, however if you wouldn't mind." He averted his eyes again and she walked out slowly aware of his eyes, swaying her hips in a way she imagined looked sexy stopping to bend down and pick up the blanket and place it back on the couch. She stifled a giggle when she got into her bedroom. Her head was spinning now, the vodka still strong in her blood, more now that she was waking up a bit. She grabbed a cotton nightgown and tossed it on.

She walked back into the kitchen with a smug smile. "Better?"

He nodded slightly pouring himself a cup of coffee. "What I need from you is some theories, I have here the list of spells and charms I have tried on myself in the past year. As well as a brief outline of the major alterations I have made to myself throughout the years. These are very, very, very sensitive materials. I will stay here until you are done with them, since I cannot trust you not to pass them on, and if you decide to speak of any of this I will kill you."

"This is not what I signed up for." She said shaking her head. "I don't care if you're becoming human. So what you'll die easier?" she shrugged.

"Why don't you just look at the notes, I know you're curious." He hinted.

"No. You're wrong." She poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Please Hermione; I need to figure this out. It's not just becoming human, I'm getting younger. I'm…" he paused.

"What?" she raised an eyebrow.

"This does not leave her lips. Ever. Do not think it after I tell you. I will kill your parents, friends, cousins, friends' family, family's friends, everyone who ever meant anything to you." She laughed a bit. "What about that was funny?" he said sharply.

"You almost look cute when you try to be menacing." She giggled swaying on her chair.

"Your still too drunk for this conversation obviously." He sipped his coffee and pushed the notes towards her.

"So what was it?" she drawled. "You piqued my curiosity with all your death talk. What's so serious?"

"I'm…losing….memories. Knowledge, I keep rereading journals trying to remember things but its slipping away like sand."

"And yet you remember me." She furrowed her brow in concentration.

"Yes, and I don't remember some of my apparently closest Death Eaters. And don't mistake me, I don't know who you are, but I know that I know you."

"You called me a mudblood earlier." She stated, "Obviously you remember some things."

"No, you live in an apartment full of muggle things. It's quite obvious."

"Do you know who Harry is?" she asked curiously.

"Through books, hazes of memories, but no note really. I know he destroyed me nearly."

She nodded. "This is for real…" she took a long drink of coffee, "So what do you want to stay here while we figure this out?" He looked around in disgust.

"No, I thought we could stay in some property I recently acquired." He looked at the counter for a moment as if trying to decide something. "I had a dream of you there, it felt important somehow."

"So you bought property because a dream?" she asked incredulous her mind starting to clear from the coffee.

"No I bought it because the location is all over my journals, so I assumed it was important. I was hoping once I took you there you could explain." He took her hand and she felt the familiar sensation of apparition.

"Rowena's hideout." Her face was filled by a broad smile. She saw Voldemort at a sink washing his hands obsessively.

"Getting off the filth?" she said sarcastically.

"Yes." He mumbled. "I'm pleased that you know the place though. It's reassuring to know I'm not completely crazy." He collapsed onto the couch and pulled off his shirt revealing hard white muscle, and bandages covering enormous oozing wounds.

Hermione began gagging feeling her stomach acid churn wildly. "Those are infected. Badly. Ughhh" she gagged searching for a glass of water.

"Traditional healing medicine does not work on me because of the alterations to my genetic makeup. But unfortunately my ability to regenerate is failing massively, and the spells I know to heal won't work, and I can't exactly ask a medical professional to check on me, not unless I kill them afterward."

"Because then they would know it's not just cosmetic changes to your body." She finished.

"Yes, so I'm in a predicament. I obviously need medical attention and cannot seek it. Imagine the headline, Dark Lord vanquished by minor infection." She gasped, "What?"

"You can die? But we thought…" her head spun.

"I don't know. I thought I couldn't. This is quickly becoming an issue though."

Hermione sat down in an elegant divan positioned near one of the many windows overlooking the cliffs. She read over the notes for a few minutes. "I don't know. I'll have to do much more research before I can come up with anything, but I'm intrigued. She sighed feeling inherently wrong for what she was about to do. "Accio first aid kit." It took a few moments for the kit to arrive, likely from a nearby tourist site.

"What are you doing with that?" he looked disgustedly. "Don't go using your barbaric muggle treatments on me."

"Oh yes, antiseptic and antibiotic ointment, absolutely barbaric." She put some of the hydrogen peroxide on a cotton ball and took a deep breath concentrating intensely. Her wand was on the table so she knew he wouldn't expect it. "Petrificus Totalus" she whispered he didn't even hear since he was adamantly refusing to let her near him, that she would probably try leeches. She knew it worked though immediately.

"What is going on?" he hissed. She felt energy radiate from him, knowing he was preparing for some wandless magic of his own she quickly dabbed the solution on his wounds, she felt his muscles stiffen even more if possible and he whispered through his teeth, "I am going to destroy you."

"I know it burns. But it's the only way to get out the infection I know of without magic. She put gobs of antibiotic ointment onto the sterilized wounds. "Didn't you ever get hurt in the orphanage?"His eyes held unfathomable fury. "Bad topic." She began to wrap his wounds with fresh bandage and notice his fists clenched in tight balls. "Oh it wasn't that bad. You're going to thank me in a while; I'm probably saved your life." She laughed. Suddenly a hot jolt of energy emitted from his chest where she was touching him." Okay, finish it yourself you… jerk." She released the spell walking from the room into what she presumed by the closet full of clean woman's robes was hers.

Moments later she heard the door leading outside slam. She found the bathroom and got into the shower. She lost herself in the hot water for at least a half hour. She was starting to develop a nasty headache and getting sleepy. She thought about the earlier events of the day finally, reality seeping in. Once again she realized she had betrayed all that she stood for, and for what, intellectual curiosity. She wrapped a towel around her hair and put on a white bathrobe that hung in the bathroom closet. Opening the bathroom door her mind was distracted for a second by the most appetizing smell in the world. Fresh, hot Chinese food, perfect cure for her hangover.

Voldemort sat on chair out on the balcony looking out into the cliffs. He still was shirtless; he had finished wrapping the bandages himself. His hair was just a little curly, not thick, but there was no evidence of his previous baldness. His skin was alabaster white; it almost had an ethereal glow in the hazy, cloudy sunset. He looked angelic nearly, until he turned, his expression suggesting he was more than aware of her thoughts. His eyes glowed red with what appeared to be anger and his face was set in the meanest scowl she could imagine.

So when he walked purposefully towards her, freezing her with fear it was easy to see how she was taken completely off guard when he grabbed the back of her head roughly, sopping wet hair entangled in his grip, and kissed he harder than she had ever experienced before. She felt her knees start to buckle and he let go of her immediately. His face containing a smug look. He laughed coldly and looked down at her, "See nothing."

She sat there on the cold wood floor for a few minutes. He went back outside from the sound of the door closing again. She decided she would go to bed and figure out what to do once she had a sober mind again.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: So this story isn't dead, sorry for the long wait on the update though. Hopefully this story will be getting some attention now.

**Chapter 9**

_She was running as fast as her feet could carry her. She cursed as she felt a tightening, then crack. Her ankle finally gave out. The previous injury, unable to sustain the momentum she tried desperately to keep up. She could hear him getting closer as she scrambled to get up. She knew it was too late, he was too strong, too fast, too _

_powerful. She would be lucky if he killed her, she imagined he had much worse in store. Clenching her eyes shut as he got with yards of her, she prayed for some miracle. _

_He approached slowly, she quivered in fear. He grabbed the back of her robes tearing her from the ground. His face a twisted version of the one she once knew. A vision of a monster, glowing fiery green eyes, the gnarled unrecognizable patch of skin on his forehead, that once made him the most recognizable wizard in the world, pulsed like some alien thing He grinned, fangs peeking over his lips, "My dear Hermione, it's been too long."_

As Hermione jolted upright two facts hit her simultaneously. One, this dream might be very important for Voldemort to hear. And two, she needed to figure out exactly what had happened yesterday. Not only why he had behaved so oddly towards her, kissing her, insulting her, acting so....emotional. But what had caused the attack on King's Cross that had killed and injured so many.

She walked into the kitchen to find it completely the same as it had been the night before. Chinese food still out on the table. There was a strong smelling dark liquor out on the table as well and an empty highball glass, melted ice and residue creating a ring around the cup. She cleaned up the mess and looked through the refrigerator. Empty.

She looked out on the balcony, he had fallen asleep in the chair. Technically, half on the chair, half hanging off. Dew was covering his body, his shimmering skin gave her a pang of what she experienced the day before, and she shook it off. She ran out and performed a quick scourgify on his bandages, cleaning them to prevent further infection. He remained asleep.

After she cleaned up she began to look through the place. It was much like she remembered from his memory, besides the updated plumbing and appliances. In the living room, along the wall with no windows or doorways there was a large expanse of book shelves. She busied herself rummaging for any new reads. She was so fascinated with a book she found on dream prophecy she didn't notice the door open.

"I trust your feeling better." he grumbled.

"I trust your feeling worse. What did you drink, half a bottle of whiskey?" she tisked her tongue.

"No, Scotch." he responded weakly.

"Same thing." she continued looking through the library.

"Well..." he growled from the table. His forehead laid against the wood of the table. He looked like Harry after the last Quidditch World Cup. They had gotten so drunk Ginny had run streaking and Ron in attempt to stop the Irish Quidditch team from ogling her ended up stupefying himself for the entirety of the night. They thought he had just passed out drunk.

"Well what?" she replied.

"You have something to tell me. You can't keep secrets from me." He pointed exaggeratedly to his forehead.

"No. I can keep secrets from you. I've practiced my occlumency enough to manage that." she smirked to herself hearing his fist slam on the table.

"Dammit girl, you'll tell me now." he bellowed.

"No, I won't. In fact you'll tell me what happened yesterday at King's Cross." she continued to rummage through the books, feeling a it of anxiousness creep into her spine.

"I could kill you right now and no one would hear you scream." he said simply. She turned around quickly and walked towards the table.

"Yes and then where would you be? You need help, you have no one else you can trust." she mocked.

"I don't trust you." he murmured.

"Then why am I here?" She stood with her hands on her hips the way she often did when bickering with Ron, the realization made her uncomfortable.

"I don't know." he sighed aggravatingly. "I started correspondence with you about something I found important, I know this because its in my journals. Aside from that, well, you tell me. Why did I seek you out, who are you really?"

"You really have lost your memory haven't you?" she asked examining his face, she could swear he lost wrinkles around the corners of his eyes that were there the day before. "I remember you said it was fuzzy yesterday, but I didn't realize..."

"I remember things..." he stood pacing now. "There are just...gaps. I remember clearly until my near thirtieth year."

Hermione nodded. "You look about thirty." she tilted her head. "How many people have you killed?"

"Many." he sighed. "I don't really even know. That I really remember, maybe four..."

"I wonder..." Hermione's mouth dropped. "I need to know what Happened at King's Cross."

"Someone broke into my estate. I sent two Death Eaters after the perpetrator. They were killed. It became personal." he growled in a low throaty way. "The thief led us to King's Cross and we were ambushed."

"The Order wouldn't stage a fight in a public arena." She replied automatically.

"Well I didn't say that's who ambushed us now did I?" his eyes showed deep frustration."The Order didn't show up till we started taking care of the muggles."

"You killed innocent muggles because you couldn't find the thief, you know it couldn't have even been a muggle who robbed you, you must have wards against them."

"No a very clever wizard robbed me. A very clever wizard who led me into a public arena and had muggles under Imperius attack my Death Eaters provoking them to kill in response."

"Did you recognize the thief?" she asked hopefully.

"No he wasn't there when we got to King's Cross, or he was he just was well hidden. Then of course the Order shows up to save the muggles and an all out battle ensued. I had made a policy of no big public battles like that. Sends a nasty image out about us, I'm trying to reform that, I want the wizarding world to turn begging for me to save them."

"A little late to become a hero isn't it?" she scoffed.

"Not a hero. A God." he smiled crookedly making her heart skip. "You know I was rather disappointed when the Order showed up, I was rather excited to see my rival, the young Harry Potter."

"Harry wasn't at the battle?" Hermione felt an eerie sensation overcome her entire being.

"No not from any photograph I've seen, my Death Eaters didn't see him either." Hermione was surprised by the lack of alarm this caused him. "I myself have taken the stance of avoiding battles before. No need to sully my wand, that's what minions are for."

"Yes but Harry's not like that..." she caught herself _You don't really know Harry anymore Hermione... _"I just can't believe he'd send in the Order and not get his shot at killing you, he's always saying those are the most crucial ones..."

"How well do you know this Potter?" he raised a brow. "I realize you were a member of the Order of the Phoenix previously from my journals but you seem to know him personally."

Hermione felt uncomfortable talking about her past and old friends, it had been an initial term of their arrangement that they didn't have to share personal information like that. "Well. We were friends."

"Hmmm and yet I believed you weren't a spy?" he shook his head slightly, "My judgment must have been failing me."

"I'm not a spy, Harry disowned me as a friend. More like made me an enemy. You really don't remember any of that."

"He tried to have you killed I remember. At a bar. My Death Eater got wounded badly on guard detail."

"This thing with our memory is serious...and baffling, I'd really like to figure it out."

"Yes well, I told you what happened at King's Cross, quite unfortunate the battle couldn't have been avoided, but these things happen in wars. Now I believe you have some information to share with me."

"Why did you kill Remus. And not its a War, self-defense bullshit. I know you don't use the killing curse but in exceptions. You have minions, he wasn't even attacking you."

"The werewolf? Because..." he paused in contemplation. "I don't know." he shrugged.

"That's it?" she fumed. "He was my friend!" she felt anger and horrible sadness she had repressed begin to surge and boil over.

"Really? Are you so sure?" he whispered. "Because in the moments before his death he saw you. He saw you and thought "traitor" He paused, staring at her, as if he weren't sure if he'd continue. "He intended to dispose of you, just as he would have any other Death Eater."

"Liar." she choked out a sob. But she knew in her heart how great the possibility was, Harry certainly believed she was. It wouldn't be improbable that he had tried to convince the rest of the Order from believing that to prevent them from contacting her.

"You don't have to believe me. Personally I could care less. I don't see why you're being so emotional over all this, he would have killed you."

Hermione tried to silence her weeping but it became increasingly difficult as realization crept over her, "If...I wouldn't...have came."

"Someone would have still probably killed him. He killed a boy not much older than you. A close friend or relative to many of the Death Eaters." he said softly looking past her at the wall.

"Thank you..." she said weakly composing herself. "I had a dream last night."

He made no acknowledgment of her thanks, "Is this the information you have, you had a dream?" he spat. "Oh well that's great. Make sure to notify me when your feminine intuition acts up too."

"Harry was you." she replied quietly. "Well not quite you, he was him but deformed, in a way that resembled your previous appearance. His scar was pulsing and huge, like a tumor or something."

"That's strange..." he ran an index finger along his jaw across his lip then began to chew idly at the tip.

"He looked old too." she wasn't sure whether or not to give her theories or wait for him to start.

"That may explain his lack of appearances publicly, if he had made similar modifications, that would certainly raise fears, he wouldn't want us being compared."

"Yes but you are getting younger and losing bits of your memory of your transformations." She was close to a dangerous bridge, her side had previous to Dumbledore's passing discovered much more of the connection between Harry and the Dark Lord. It seemed there connection was near limitless.

"I'm aware of the bond Potter and I share." he replied reading her thoughts. "But I can feel when the connection is activated or brought out of the normal stasis. Besides what you're suggesting, Potter's not skilled enough to even attempt such a thing without killing himself."

"I haven't suggested a thing." she snapped back.

"No but you're mind has been racing with theories, quite openly I might add." she shut herself from him as much as she could manage after he said that. She felt frustrated at herself for letting her guard down so much around him.

"You might be underestimating him. He' not the same person." she mumbled. "Hey wait, what did the thief steal anyway?"

He looked at her in an odd way then stood and turned. "Nothing."

"Really now, with all the things I know what damage will telling me do?"

"It's not your business mudblood." he spat, still turned away.

"You know, you're right." she laughed to herself, shaking her head. "None of this is. When I made an agreement to work with you, it was on a set project. It certainly wasn't making sure you were strong enough to keep this war going." she stood briskly. "I'm assuming there are apparation wards." he made no reply. "Well then I suppose I'll walk down the pathway, it must meet up with the road eventually." She walked towards the door waiting for him to stop her. She turned the knob slowly resisting the urge to turn and look back at him.

He didn't stop her after all. Now she felt she was in a genuine dilemma. Her pride would stop her from ever contacting him again, she was sure of it. But she was scared of what the dream foretold. She laughed slightly. What was she really thinking, was she seeking protection from Harry through Voldemort, who spoke of genocide against her for something as simple as parentage, when he himself was half-muggle. Had she lost her mind completely? She had walked a half mile down the path before she heard him shout from the balcony.

"Return now you stubborn witch!" Even from the distance it sounded crystal clear. She played dumb and kept walking.

"I WILL NOT BE IGNORED! He shrieked. Hermione stifled a giggle. Suddenly she felt her feet start to raise from the ground. In seconds she was floating twenty feet in the air upside down her blue cotton panties exposed to the outside world and Voldemort, who laughed in a cold shrill soprano.

He left her suspended over the balcony for a moment still upside down. He grinned sadistically, "Who's laughing now?"

"Put me down!" she shouted trying desperately to hold her robes to her legs.

"Don't flatter yourself I'm not looking."

"I said let me go now!"

He smirked and she felt the spell break and went pummeling towards the ground. She imagined she was screaming but heard nothing but the whoosh of air. She froze mid-fall less than a foot from impact and was gently released face first in the dirt. She looked up to see him holding his hand out with a mocking pout.

"Truce." he said batting his eyes in pseudo-innocence. She grabbed his hand and pulled down with all her might rolling to the side. He fell hard.

She got up first dusting herself off. He was up a second later grumbling.

"My pensieve." he said quietly.

"What?" she replied taken off guard.

"Mementos of my past. No war plans, no strategy, no classified knowledge that could be used to destroy me." he was staring off into the distance. "Trivial personal things, things to mull over in idle hours, things I wouldn't fear being used against me in an event such as this."

"Except your already losing memories." she replied in a hushed tone.

"Yes Except that bit."

She took in this new information, a slow chill crept from her toes up her spine, realization sinking in. Harry was literally becoming Voldemort


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Sorry in advance this chapter may be poorly edited but I was excited to get it up. Thank you for all the encouragement and please review.

Chapter 10

They were silent on the walk back to the house. Hermione's cheeks were still warm with excitement from the argument. Her mind raced with possibilities concerning Harry and the actions he was taking. She wondered if perhaps she should try to speak to Ginny soon.

"Excuse me." Voldemort snapped. "That's twice now. Quit daydreaming and listen."

"What?" she replied defensively.

"I need you to study the diaries today. I have a meeting to attend." His voice was distant and his scarlet eyes stormy, smudged with gray.

"Rowena's?" she asked idly wondering what his meeting was concerned with.

"How to proceed with the whole King's Cross incident ." He replied looking concentrated.

She was shocked he even responded to the intrusive thought, by his expression she guessed he was taken off guard too. His eyes darkened and his lip was set in a sneer. "And yes, obviously the diaries I was referring to were Rowena's. I don't know why you'd even ask such a stupid question." he said coldly, avoiding her eyes.

"Fine." she sped up and finished the walk ahead of him, slamming the door on her way into the house. His behavior was infuriating, she grabbed the diary from the desk and poured herself a glass of wine. She went to the bedroom and put on an airy white cotton dress, the humidity had already turned her hair into a mess of wild curls. She carried her wine and the diary out onto the balcony. The soft ocean wind invigorated her. She took a deep drink from the crystal glass, the red wine was sweet and grapey, with just a little spice.

Leaning against the railing, she stared down the chalky crags, watching the slate gray water crash against the rock, her mind wandered. The tension and turmoil in the water looked just like the storminess she'd seen in his eyes earlier. He was always watching her, usually with frustration or disdain. But sometimes she swore there was something intense there, something that scared her... something that excited her. Chills ran down her spine and she turned slowly. Knowing he'd be standing there.

He wasn't, but for just a second she'd seen a woman in a white gown, long black hair blowing in the wind. It couldn't be though... her mind was playing tricks on her, she was under an unnatural amount of stress, even for her. Anxiety grew as she realized she was alone here. She finished off the wine and tried to immerse herself in her reading. But the anxious knot in her stomach tightened and twisted.

_Day 23_

_I grow weary of our arguments. He is brilliant, without any doubt. But he is maddening, and more alarmingly, mad. He shows me small gestures of kindness, then retracts into grumbling coldness. And it worries me, that every time this happens, I yearn more for his gentleness. I wonder what I've done __wrong to make him behave so. This is irrational for I know he is ill-tempered and cruel and in great likelihood he is making a fool out of me...I fear him sometimes. Behind the charm, the wit; I fear he is more sinister than I had guessed when I didn't __lo__...trust him. _

_On a lighter note, I wrote a poem today._

_My gentle heart is a wilting rose_

_white and soft, sweet with decay._

_My tender heart, it always knows_

_just where loves great treasure lay._

_Oh dig it out, my wilted rose_

_And here with you I'll always stay._

_Anyhow, I suppose that's all I even have to write. We have yet to accomplish anything tangible and yet I feel something of incomparable magnitude on horizon...what I just don't know._

Hermione mulled the entry over. It seemed too obvious to even check, but she had too. Nestled down from the house was the remnant of a fence, she supposed at one point in time contained a garden. Dandelions, clover, and other weeds covered the patch. But deep within the mess of it all she swore she could see it. She walked down the hill to get a closer look, finally when she was a few feet away she was a positive. Amidst all the overgrown grass and weeds was a single white rose. She pulled at the stem and sure enough it stayed put. She began to dig into the dry dirt with her hand, grayish brown mud practically ruining her dress. Finally she reached the roots and dug below them her nails making contact with a metal surface. She dug frantically now, whatever this was she wanted to get it quick, so she'd have a chance to examine it herself before Voldemort returned. She pulled a dirty bronze box out of the hole. "Scourgify" she gestured her wand at the box, revealing intricate carvings and glittering sapphires. Holding it to the sun it cast golden orange swirls and blue stars all over the surrounding area. Across her hand she saw a butterfly wing flap and realized the whole mosaic was alive. She was awestruck, this artifact, a treasure of Rowena Ravenclaw's had been buried undiscovered for centuries and now she held it in her hand.

Hands shaking with anticipation she undid the delicate clasp that held the box closed. She opened the box and a lovely lute song began to play, the sweet warpy notes melded together in the most soothing way, she felt the burden in her mind melt away, the heaviness in her heart receded. Eyes closed she breathed in deep, feeling utterly free and able to do anything at all. She opened her eyes and looked into the box and there was a rose head, just like the one growing in the weeds, it had been white at a point but it was browned and curled at the edge of every petal. While it still smelled sweet, there was also something festering about it, and it glowed faintly white around it. Curiosity getting the best of her she touched the velvety petal. She imploded, every worry, fear, trouble that had past her in her entire life and more surged into her and some she'd never even experienced. Tears streamed down her face but her mind was so overwhelmed she couldn't make a sound. Her stomach was so knotted she could take it, she fell to her knees and vomited. She'd never felt this before, this madness, it was like there was nothing good inside her anymore. It was like weights we crushing her she wrapped her arms around her knees and held herself tight trying to choke back tears. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew if only she could get control of herself she could stop this or at least figure out what was happening. As the pressure became to much for her to bare she let herself slip into the deep veil of sleep.

"_Leave child, your heart is good. Leave this place, don't look back." the voice was gentle and warm, it reminded Hermione of her mother, but the tone was forceful. "Leave him to destroy himself. You need not destroy your soul, it is not a noble thing to do. Leave him before he does it to you, because you will be a waste."_

"_What happened to me?" There was no sign of where the voice came from she was in a vast expanse of blackness alone._

"_You felt the burden of witch who followed her heart into the dark. That is what waits for you, I can see you now this, you may not admit it to yourself, but you know." the voice paused for a moment then continued in a harsher tone. "He could never love you. No matter what you do."_

"_I don't want that!" Hermione screamed. "I just want..." she wasn't sure what it was she wanted anymore. "I just want to feel alive."_

"_At what cost though child?" the voice asked softly._

"_I don't know." Hermione muttered through tears. "I don't know..."_

"What don't you know?!" the voice shouted in frustration shaking her. "Wake up."

Hermione opened her eyes slowly recognizing the familiar screaming before she needed to see his face.

"Let me go." she croaked weakly. He released her immediately. He had carried her back into the house and put her on her bed. The copper box was on the dresser in the corner with some type of protective charm surrounding it. It was dark outside now, she had no idea how long she'd been out for.

"Six hours since I've returned." he replied quietly to her thought looking out the window. She nodded unsure as what to say. He continued softly still not looking at her. "Why would you ever touch some strange artifact you found buried in the ground of all places, without checking if some dark magic were present?" He looked at her now, his face was unreadable, if she didn't know better she'd have swore he looked worried.

"I think I spoke to Rowena Ravenclaw in my dream." she said weakly looking at the box.

"It's unlikely Ravenclaw dabbled in that kind of dark magic Hermione. Highly unlikely." he rubbed his temples.

"I found the box from a poem in her diary though." He rose an eyebrow in response.

"Really? In which entry I don't remember any poems pointing out the location of ancient artifacts and I've read those diaries over a million times."

"Exaggerating much?" she tried to raise herself from the bed but found she had hardly any strength. "What's wrong with me?" She had thought the side effects from the spell or according to him, curse, had worn off, she didn't feel the overwhelming pain in her heart anymore.

"You were exposed to one of the most complex nightmare spells I've ever seen. Honestly I'm surprised I'm speaking to you right now." he replied evenly. "Now where is the diary where you found the entry?"

"On the balcony, it should still be opened to the page."

"There was no diary on the balcony. That's where I found you." he looked a mixture of confused and almost sick.

"What do you mean? I passed out by the garden."

"Well then somehow you made it back to the balcony." he was looking at the floor unsure.

"What are you thinking?" she asked trying to remember how she'd made it all the way back to the balcony. Without saying a word he walked out of the room only to return a moment later holding an ancient sheet of parchment, the same that were in Rowena's diary. Scrolled across the page in handwriting that was not hers but was still very familiar read a freshly scripted note.

"_You vile, wretched snake. You will leave this child alone. The Slytherin name shall die with you. Their cursed blood will leave this world once and for all. I will be standing there when she destroys you. She will not have my fate. I will not allow it. You will fall, bastard heir of Slytherin."_

"So now I suppose you're going to have me believe you don't remember writing this." his voice was calm but their was something malicious brewing in his eyes.

"That's not even my handwriting." she read the note over. "It would seem as if someone were giving you a warning though."

"Really?" he asked scathingly. "You know, I don't even know who you are, but from what I do know, I have no idea why I've let you stay here this long. Clearly, I shouldn't trust you." his eyes were furious. "You will destroy me...the bastard heir of Slytherin." he practically shrieked. He laughed now looking down on her. "You say these things to me, threaten me, and look at you." he looked her body up and down slowly. She suddenly was aware of all the rips and exposed bits of skin through the thin dirty cotton dress. "Just a pathetic little mudblood, covered in mud." he laughed again, the cold shrill laugh she'd heard the first night they met. She held his gaze though, tears collecting in the corners of her doe wide chocolate eyes. His eyes narrowed, a swirling storm of red and steel, like the sea that morning. He hovered over her, wand out, but he was silent now, staring intensely into her eyes. She opened her mind completely, hoping if he just saw what happened he would calm.

It was an awful and uncomfortable feeling, him pushing through her thoughts, feelings, she took deep breaths, trying to relax. He took a step back from her and turned around to look at the letter again. He walked out of the room over to her desk. He came back with one of her personal journals and one of Rowena's notebooks. He stood comparing them silently before her, only occasionally performing some spell she'd never even heard, at one point her hand started to glow white. "Why is this happening to my hand?" she demanded.

"You wrote this note with your hand. But I don't think it was by your choice. Perhaps you were under Imperious." he looked back at the note.

"Why what was that spell you did?" she asked nervously, as her hand was still glowing.

"Stop being paranoid, it will fade in an hour or so. And the spell I'd thought was obvious, it illuminates the hand of the writer of any mark." his face appeared a little puzzled. "I created the spell to trace the origins of threats made against me, it normally makes the hand glow red. However sometimes the hand has glowed blue if the writer was under Imperious. But white...I've never seen it frankly."

"So...did you check out the box yet?" She managed to pull the blanket over herself and he laughed coldly.

"No, of course not, there were unique dark curses on the object inside the box. Though the box itself seemed to have a very difficult and rarely seen ancient charm."

"What does the charm do?" she asked tentatively.

"It removes all the worries in the world from the person who triggers it." His brows furrowed a bit and he chewed his lip and she couldn't help but admire him. He smirked slightly for a second and she quickly went on guard and tried furiously not to blush. He continued on as if unfazed, smiling slightly, clearly satisfied with himself, "Putting that dark object in that specific box was a very calculated move. A curse that powerful impacted upon a person who was even a bit troubled would destroy them. Mentally at the very least. But by making the person who was to come in contact with it first become completely free they can survive the encounter with the curse." Now he looked at her nibbling this bottom lip. "But why do you suppose someone would ever want you to survive a curse of that magnitude? I mean there are much easier spells that could get someone to act as your slave or to inflict mental and physical pain." He looked at her intently. "So what is your conclusion?"

"Well most of those curses would require the presence of the wizard, say the Imperious for instance, but if the wizard who's casting the curse isn't alive they'd need a much more powerful spell to somehow make their presence felt. Sort of like what you did to your diary when you were in Hogwarts."

"I don't like that you know that... is that another one of the times you battled me?" he appeared frustrated.

"Yes, well I didn't. I was actually petrified. You didn't see that, the basilisk incident?" she rose her eyebrows smirking. "You know I figured it out actually, I was on my way from the library with the discovery and I caught its reflection."

"Hm..." he laughed softly to himself looking at his feet. "You know it's strange...I was thinking earlier..." he paused looking at his hands that he had steepled.

"What?" Hermione asked trying to prop herself up. His eyes had a sort of wild look to them, glowing red rimmed with a growing smoky rim of gray.

"I wake up every morning and I read Voldemort's journals. I mean, I am Voldemort, but I'm not him. I mean hell I haven't even been beat by Potter yet. I read his thoughts, plans, strategies, opinions; they're not all mine." He stood and paced gesturing his long white fingers for emphasis. "For instance, he had this whole image of masks and hoods for the Death Eaters. Why should we hide our faces? Like villains, like we are afraid, ashamed. Oh reasons its to increase the fear associated with our presence."

"Excuse me...but I would prefer you not discuss this with me." she said quietly looking away. He was captivating her, entrancing her, she knew this rhetoric, this tired speech he'd give her.

He frowned. "You can't be serious? You are literally the only person who knows the extent of what's happened to me and you can't at least respond to my thoughts. I'm serious about this, I'm thinking of reevaluating my strategy, I think perhaps I can come out a hero for this. The goal after all is domination so I can achieve my ideal state without any opposition."

"What a clean and clever way to say wipe out muggles, mudbloods, blood traitors, and well pretty much anyone you don't like." she shot back.

"Oh really, well if I could achieve, say Minister of Magic, I could just make it illegal to educate mudbloods and let them enter into our world and it would be settled." he said as if it were a rational, well argued point.

"Oh my god I cannot listen to this." she covered her ears. "Oh this is so unfair. I can't move, you need to leave the room now before I find my wand and hex the hell out of you."

He grinned crookedly at her walking forward slowly. "Yes it is unfair isn't it." He stood beside the bed now. "You're just pathetically weak now." She swallowed nervously as his eyes linger on her neck and shoulders showing above the blanket. She went to pull it higher but he grabbed it and threw it off the bed. She drew in a sharp breath feeling the chilled night air, crossing her arms over breast horribly aware of the rips and tears exposing pale flesh all over the dress.

"Stop..." she whispered looking at him uncertain of what he was doing, his mind was completely shut off. Her heart was racing and though she tried to appear brave she trembled slightly.

"Now see if you'd listened to me when I tried speaking you'd see I was conflicted, see I've been spending nearly all my time around a mudblood and for the most part it hasn't been excruciating or dreadful." He sat down on the bed beside her. "You know even in Hogwarts when I was young and had plenty of free time I didn't consort with muggle girls." he smirked stroking her abdomen. "And contrary to what you might have believed, I consorted with plenty of lovely pureblood girls. "But they just don't have the fight in them, the spirit." he looked at her face from a moment, his face actually looked soft, though she told herself it was an act, he was charming her. He continued "That pureblood entitlement saps the fire from their blood. You, you've fought for respect. I can almost admire that..." his long fingers grazed lazy circles across her quivering stomach and chest.

"Stop telling me what I want to hear. I'm not an idiot and you haven't changed." she felt like she was trying to convince herself more than anything.

He bent his head down slowly and kissed her stomach above her belly button, she tried to stop herself from shaking when his lips, warmer and softer than she imagined met her flesh softly, lingering. "Really?" he asked, his lips not even an inch from her skin still, his hot breath against her skin gave her goosebumps, without realizing it she was stroking his hair. He stiffened noticeably and reached for her hand and set it on the bed. He continued kissing her across her abdomen, slowly, so that she was drawing breaths raggedly, trying not to enjoy his torment, for she was sure this all this was, some twisted mind game. She tried to push him away and he grabbed her wrist again, this time more forcefully he pinned it above her head and looked into her eyes. She could see now he was conflicted, when just a moment ago he seemed so sure of himself, in control. He stroked the outline of her dress, where it curved delicately over her breasts.

"What are you doing?" she said as calmly as she could mange, she felt her nipples harden as his fingers grazed beneath the dress.

"What I want to do." his eyes glowed bright and he wasn't the Voldemort she had read about in every history book upon finding out she was a witch, or even the one she'd battled with Harry and Ron. "I'm tired of waking up every morning and following his orders and becoming him. Damn it, if Potter thinks he's going to beat me this way he is very mistaken. I'm as powerful as ever and now I have the face the wizarding world can trust, Potter has no idea the blow he's dealt himself." he smiled, his face gentle, soft jet curls fell loosely over his forehead, he looked angelic almost. It made her believe he actually might pull it off.

She looked away toward the window and he drew a curving line down her spine making her shiver and lean into his touch uncontrollably.

"Hermione." her name rolled off his tongue like music, his voice rang in her head and she had a hard time remembering her situation. He pulled down her dress to her waist and toyed with the straps of her flimsy white cotton and lace bra. "Could you imagine, having a second chance to do everything right, to improve on any mistake I've made. To avoid become that weak, paranoid, lonely, old man." he smiled genuinely. "I feel it, I can do any damn thing I want."

"Fine, I'll indulge your delusion. So how do you plan to pitch this to your Death Eaters. I've lost my memory and my age is reversing daily, but don't worry I'm still an effective leader. Even though I don't remember half your names and have no idea when this process of losing memories and age will stop.

He interrupted her now with the slightest look of smugness, "I think I do know what's happening actually. I spoke today with one of my spies, my most trusted Death Eater in fact. It seems Potter has been dabbling in some very, very dark arts. He is essentially stealing my soul, my life, my power. But he will only get as far as I have altered myself. Beyond that he can do nothing."

"But he can take away your immortality?" she looked stunned by his casual demeanor.

"Hermione. I'm so powerful, I'm not even afraid of death. I've notebooks of thousands of spells no one but I have ever heard of." he began kissing her collar bone up her neck, nibbling at the soft skin at the base of her neck. "And I have the most intelligent, powerful witch in the world at my side...I'm unstoppable." his lips met hers forcefully. He bit her lower lip til she yelped in pain and pleasure. She tried to keep her lips still but she fell into the rhythm of his lips and when his tongue pushed against he lips she opened her mouth eagerly.

"I don't support the fight you do and I won't ever, you can forget it." she said pulling away from his kiss. Her mind cleared and she looked at him intensely. "You are evil."

"And you didn't know that?" he rose an eyebrow incredulously. "Now tell me dear, who isn't evil, who is "good"? Who goes without killing for their righteous cause. Who says this bloodshed should stop?"

"I don't know what drew me to you. But I know now, you are my compliment, my balance. You will stand beside me when I make my accession." he looked so certain she nearly believed it herself. "You will see. They will all see me, young, handsome, reborn. Hand in hand with my mudblood queen. They will turn to me desperate, sick of war, of death. They will beg me to save them. I will be their god."

"No, that will never happen." she whispered tears building in her eyes as she fought the urge to pull of his plain gray robes. He must have read her thoughts because he pulled them off and stood before her in a simple black shirt and trousers.

He paced beside the bed staring at her nearly exposed breasts. "Yes I think tonight you will become my queen." she felt a lump grow in her throat, her heart was beating so hard she could hear it. He pulled his shirt above his head exposing lean, pale muscle, his body was peppered with scars. Though she examined him openly he appeared unfazed, or rather smugly satisfied with the attention she paid to his body. She closed her eyes tightly, clearing her mind, she tried to name the twelve uses of dragon blood. But she could feel him now, climbing onto the bed, she could feel the skin of his bare thighs straddle her. She shuddered and moved unconsciously against him, grinding her hips into his. He stared into her watery eyes, stroking a tear off her check, "You are mine." he whispered possessively. He pulled off her dress and she kept her eyes clenched closed tears streaming down her face, but she didn't resist. The lights in the room dimmed and she saw candles float in a halo above the bed. He finally let his body, hard and cold meet hers, soft and warm. His skin felt electric, power seemed to pulse and radiate from his skin, making her tremble.

She felt herself start to regain some strength, certainly she was pulsing with adrenaline. His wand was within reach she could take it now without him even noticing. But her hands stayed at her sides, her eyes remained locked with his. "You lie. You are charming me."

"Perhaps. But I know we're on the verge of making the greatest discovering in the history of our world. And history tends to be abundantly forgiving to geniuses." he kissed her deeply again and she couldn't even pretend she didn't enjoy it. She found herself leaning up towards him as he pulled away, breathing in short pants, his eyes swirling, hypnotizing her. He kissed her shoulder in long, languid motions, his tongue sliding over the sensitive skin. He made his way up her neck, to her earlobes nips gently. Their hips were moving gently in synch. His lips hovered over her ear, his breath sent shivers down her spine. Into her ear he whispered, "Be my queen Hermione."


	11. An Interlude: The Daily Prophet

**Author's Note**: I've deciding to shake the dust off this story and get working on it again. While I get back into the swing of things I'll be posting some extras, that fill in where the story is and where it's headed. So, these articles from the Daily Prophet will be covering what's going on in the wizarding world for now.

**Disclaimer**: Of course I don't own Harry Potter, because I'd be on an island, not doing anything… ever.

**THE DAILY PROPHET**

**Promising Research Offers Cure to MIS (Magic Impotence Syndrome) **

**By: Draco Malfoy**

Salazar Incorporated announced promising news for those suffering with MIS, more commonly known as squibs. Emerging research into the origin and catalyst of magic indicate the possibility of enabled magical ability in a squid may be as simple as taking a supplement to enable production of a linked enzyme. This research is in early stages but interest in Salazar Inc. is sure to surge in the private sector.

In accordance with ministry magical alteration policies these new treatments won't be market ready for years, however interested squibs may be able to opt in to early human testing by contacting their local Salazar Incorporated representative.

MIS effects 1 in 10,000 pureblood births annually, 1 in 50,000 half-blood and muggle-born births. There is still no explanation for the greater correlation of MIS in pureblood families. Speculation in the past, had claimed MIS was the result of muggle blood diluting the magical blood pool, however current statistic draw that assumption into question now.

**An Unpleasant Truth**

**By: Cortland Crenton**

Following the fifth consecutive attack by a non- transformed werewolf the Ministry has issued a decree calling for the registration and DNA cataloguing of a lycanthropes. The move is unpopular in liberal crowds where it is seen in direct correlation with "HWMNBN's" policy. The Minister defended his decision saying, "I believe that in times of War sometimes we must take extra precautions to ensure the safety of the general population…You know the last victim she was a little girl, only four. They still don't know if she'll survive the first transformation next weekend."

The suspect of the attacks is by no surprise, Fenrir Greyback, previously convicted of similar charges and a known fugitive. More alarming about these attacks perhaps is the use of the Confundus Charm on the victims. So far none of the victims has been able to give any coherent statement referring to the attack. The Ministry is offering a ten thousand galleon award to anyone supplying facts that lead to the apprehension of Greyback, or any other significant lead.

A rally is being held by the Order of the Phoenix in memoriam of member Remus Lupin, a lycan and former Order member and Hogwarts professor, who was killed in the Kings Cross Incident. It is being held in the Ministry plaza Friday night and is a, "peaceful candlelit vigil" and "awareness speeches". Harry Potter is not to attend once again. Some speculate the marriage of his former love interest Ginny Malfoy has something to do with his lack of public appearances.

The rights of half breeds and magical creatures is often a subject of debate. When it comes restricting the personal rights and freedoms of those with lycanthropy, there is often a fair amount of dissent, since with proper treatment the condition is manageable. However, the Ministry's decree on lycanthropy is up for public vote later this year. Current public opinion show 78% favoring making the decree a permanent legislation.

**Malfoy - Weasley Wedding**

**By: Blaze Zabini**

Ginevra Weasley was absolutely glowing; a picture of grace and elegance in couture dress robes designed by Donatella Verez. Her tiara a… gasp; muggle creation by a company called Cartier was enchanting and incredibly sparkly, though a rather shocking departure from the traditional witch's veil. The society event of the season for the pureblood community, all the regulars were in attendance. Absent from attendance was Malfoy's father Lucius who is of course still in Ministry fugitive status since his escape from Azkaban. More noticeably absent was the Weasley family with the exception of her brother Percival.

There is a rather persistent rumor circulating that Hermione Granger, former Order member accused of betraying the organization was in attendance. Though, for the record, this journalist certainly didn't see her there. The Order is currently offering an undisclosed reward based on quality of information leading to the location or capture of Granger.

The couple exchanged personally written vows in addition to the traditional ritual. Despite the heavy echoes of muggle custom in the ceremony the reception was well received and it looks to be the event of the year. From the staff of the Daily Prophet we all wish this young couple the best of luck.

**A Revolution, True**

**By: Edna Melody**

In a world so wrapped up in fundamental turmoil, conflict of blood, of ideology; this is the time for change. Since humanity seems to have lost a grasp on how we ought to accomplish this; another race is stepping forward. In drastic and unexpected ways.

Bumbles is a typical house elf. Subservient by anyone's description, meek, timid, with a strong love and appreciation of wizard kind. So why is it that Bumbles sits with me now donning fishnets and a red satin negligee? Let's allow Bumble's to explain:

"Missus Yaxley was always kind and generous to Bumbles." He looks towards the floor anxiously and adjusts his slip. "She had a slight….ever so mind you….temper. But Bumbles never planned to leave. One fated day "He Who Ougtta Be Named" showed up and told Bumbles how it was and well there was no choice."

The house elf looked around nervously now, unsure of himself, perhaps doubting whether he should continue. "That all being said…The revolution, its time is now. Undoubtedly." Jaw hanging lax. It looks as though he's ready to continue. "I think that all needs to be said is this: Wizards ought to free their house elves…Before anything regrettable happens."

All this reporter knows is that this summer is shaping up to be one for the record books. The average self-emancipation of house elf rate in England is 7 annually. As of July 12th there have been 34 house elf emancipations, 105 have been reported as attempted. Something is certainly brewing.


	12. Chapter 11

I Prefer Lord

Chapter 11

Author's Note: Well here's chapter 11 a bit quicker than I thought I'd have it, thanks for all the reviews everyone, hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

She had three options as she saw it.

1. She could use this moment, when his guard seemed down, to hex the living hell out of him, grab her broom and fly to the end of the aparation wards and get out of there.

2. She could cry and beg and scream for him to stop and resort to hexing him if necessary and hope they could continue with their work as if none of this ever happened.

3. She could stop fighting and surrender right then. She could never forgive herself… perhaps. But maybe she'd been pursuing the wrong angle the whole time. Maybe the only way to defeat him was to be the person he lets in, his most trusted traitor.

She banished the thought away quickly hoping her guard was enough to keep him from her mind now. But judging from his fierce kisses on her neck and shoulders his mind was elsewhere. She took a deep breath, chills running down to her toes.

"I can't believe this…" she whispered more to herself, but stopped kissing her and sat up.

"Hermione, just stop thinking for once, stop being a muggle born witch, or a member of the Order of the Phoenix ,or SPEW, or whatever other title you've designated yourself as. You owe no one. You are your own person and you can do what you want." he said softly.

"Do you think that's what this is about." she half smiled. "No I think I burned those bridges a long time ago."

"Then what is it?" His stare was penetrating, searching her for answers.

"You're Voldemort." she nearly laughed as his face turned cold. "What I mean is, this is outside of the realm of anything I could have ever imagined."

Now he smirked slightly, "Really… I'm quite disappointed in your imagination then. I was under the impression muggles held a higher threshold for wonder and amazement. What with magic being magical in your world and not just another mundane thing."

She reached a hand slowly up to his chest, he stiffened, but didn't push her away. His gaze still focused far away his brow furrowed. She slid her fingertips across his chest, his skin surprisingly soft, but for a peppering of battle scars. She leaned forward and kissed one that stretched across his chest and she could feel his heartbeat. Fast, inhumanly fast. He still stayed rigid, his face looking pained nearly. Gathering resolve she pulled her body up onto his. His stony expression crumbled as their chests melted together . She kissed him this time, softly; holding herself up against him, her arms draped around his neck and shoulders. They rocked together, her legs wrapped around his. She closed her eyes pushing everything else away. Into the blackness went Harry and Ron, her professors, parents, the children of Hogwarts she'd sworn to protect. She felt tears pour from her eyes and closed them tighter until there was only blackness, with flashes of peripheral neon green and orange. Till she was just a body and a mind, just a machine. Still the tears came, she felt like she was floating, like her body and her soul had disconnected. The air in the bedroom was turbulent and charged with electricity. Hot and cold at once, she felt completely overpowered by it.

She felt his long, slender fingers graze her cheek. "Open your eyes." She did and nearly screamed. They were floating above the sea, in the midst of a raging storm. The sky, violet red with towering indigo clouds that crackled white blue. The ocean spray was a light freezing mist that made her hold onto him tighter. She shivered a little and he moved his hands up and down her back. They were warm as if he'd been sitting by a fire.

"This can't be safe." she mumbled watching the sea crash into the cliff side. Thunder roared in the distance.

"There is one simple truth Hermione. Nothing worth doing is ever safe. You can spend your life doing nothing or you can face the fact that you will die." He paused now looking uncertain, as if some tempest was brewing in his mind. "I'll tell you a secret…" He held her chin with his hand forcing her to look right at him. She swallowed nervously.

"There is no sweeter feeling than knowing you will die someday. Take it from someone who once thought they never would, that they would be trapped in an indescribably empty shell of existence for eternity. Death only means you've finally lost or won."

As if on cue the sky erupted in a blast of thunder. Their lips met in desperation and she knew now there was no turning back; if there ever had been.

She awoke the next morning in his bed, the space he had occupied empty. This wasn't surprising as judging from the sun it was at least ten and he seldom stayed in bed past seven. Their was a craft of coffee sitting on the table in the living room and a note next to it.

_Be back later. Try not get yourself killed it'll only be a few hours._

She smirked and poured herself a cup of coffee and took it out the balcony. The sea was still a bit wild from the night before though the sky was clear bright blue and the sun was shining brightly.

She re-read the part of, "Hogwarts, A History," on the founders trying to pick up on something more of the relationship between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. But as she'd figured, the text focused mainly on the animosity between Gryffindor and Slytherin. She finished her coffee and went out to the balcony. In the distance a ways down the road she could see a little farmers market set up.

In fact it was such a nice day it seemed like a perfect time to go check out the set up. How much danger could possibly come from going to a muggle farmer's market?

Of course the moment that question crossed her mind she should have known it was a bad idea. But really who could have guessed he would be there, waiting for her.

"Miss Granger do you have a moment?" Cold dark eyes regarded her like she was a monster. A hint of fear was mixed in the disgust.

"Um…What are you doing here? Did he send you? Is everything okay Severus?" she felt her stomach knot up as if it was Potions again and she'd been called on while Ron was distracting her from the question.

"No, I'm here on my own accord." he said quietly. "And unless you'd like my assure my quick and painful death I'd prefer you keep this meeting to yourself."

"I will do my best but you do realize he has his way of finding things out." she paused. "But I think I can manage."

"Well honestly it doesn't much matter. I didn't really have a choice in this matter. Have you read the paper lately Hermione?"

"No not really. I've been busy and I'd rather not know anything about matters which I have no ability to affect. Why?"

His face held a great deal of contempt as he stared at her silently, suddenly she was aware of a nudge at her mind, much different than Voldemort's presence which was more of a heavy assault.

"Oh yes I'm sure you have no bearing whatsoever on the recent turn of events." he spat venomously. "I knew when this change in Harry began there was no way he was capable of such insidious dark magic himself. And with the proximity of his change to your betrayal of the order…"

She cut him off her voice shaking with anger, "If you're suggesting for even a moment that I did this to Harry…"

"No I'm not suggesting, I'm saying that yes you clearly did. Or you aided _your lord_ in doing it. But what you may not realize is in taming Voldemort you've created a threat to the wizarding world in Harry much larger in scope than Voldemort ever was. Because Harry's not interested in ridding this world of muggle borns and half-breeds, No his ambitions are much, much higher. He now believes there can be no co-existence of worlds and he intends to destroy us all."

"Severus, you cannot be serious…" she felt an icy wave of apprehension wash over her. "Why would Harry even want that? I mean what does he stand to gain from killing everyone?"

Severus laughed now slightly, a nervous cackle that attracted attention from a group of nearby old muggle women testing the firmness of summer squash. He pulled Hermione into the shadows under a large oak tree. "Maybe you really don't know what's going on…Hermione I asked if you'd read the paper lately because there has been some chatter about some promising research made by Salazar Inc. into the nature of magic. Research that promises potential to cure squibs, to strengthen the "magic gene" in the magical weak. Now you might think with a name like Salazar Incorporated, the corporation responsible for finding this would be related to "You Know Who" or one of his purity loving associates, but you'd be completely wrong. The founder, hell the only associate of Salazar Inc. is none other than the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter himself. And "the cure" he's developing experimenting on squibs and muggles, it's no cure of course.

Now Hermione could see the grave fear in his eyes. Heavy shadows contoured his gaunt face, his hair held more grey than she remembered. "Severus what are you saying?"

"He's figured out how it all works Hermione, he beat you and Voldemort to it. He's going to rid the world of magic. He's going to wipe the slate clean, make us all muggles."

"Would that really be the worse thing?" she wondered aloud.

"Of course it would!" he bellowed. "He will destroy every trace of our world. Listen, I understand you've spent time in the muggle world, you've adjusted. But do you have any idea what this would do to some wizards and witches? Not to mention, its our culture, our history, our everything. Mine and yours, all of ours. We can't let this happen…So I've come to you to betray the Order, or what's left of it. " He pulled a leather bound journal from his robes. "This is Harry's, he's certainly noticed its missing by now, so I must return quickly before anyone else suffers for my crime."

"But Severus, what will he do to you?" Tears were forming in her eyes, while her stomach twisted and turned, she feared she already knew the answer.

"I knew the risk I took bringing this to you. Listen you must not allow Voldemort to see this, it explains everything Harry's discovered. He's very, very close to perfecting the method of magical extraction." His face looked gray and his lips quivered, "I've seen the experiments Hermione…you must stop him. But you must not let Voldemort to see this information either…he'll use it against those like you, and even selective use of this extraction would destroy our world. You know what I mean right Hermione? There'd be no more Miss Grangers sorting into Gryffindor."

Before he could react the wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "Thank you Severus, I won't fail you I promise." And in a moment he was gone, her arms grasping air.

She walked back to the market picking up some particularly juicy, plump strawberries and fresh cream. She tried to smile as the farmer explained to her how if she came back next weekend he'd have even better berries. All she could think of was what was happening to Snape, was he being tortured, killed, or was he Harry's latest experiment candidate. A sob escaped her lips though she tried to hold it back.

The farmer's mother who had been packaging produce hobbled over to her and within a minute an entire group of old muggle women were cooing over her, asking her what was wrong and then it was like a floodgate and all the tears she'd been trying to hold back came pouring out. She sobbed for the better part of ten minutes the women taking turns rubbing her back and consoling her. Suddenly she knew he was there. His presence overshadowing everything. Dressed in khaki's and a polo, his dark chestnut hair falling carelessly into his eyes, he looked straight out of muggle magazine.

"I'm sorry, my wife, she has emotional issues. Thank you for taking care of her." he was speaking softly to the farmer's mother while the other women helped her compose herself.

The ancient woman smiled kindly, "You watch over her more carefully, you know its not just her who's safety you need to be concerned for anymore."

She couldn't hear what the muggle woman had said to him, but clearly it'd left a mark. He was whiter than a ghost, and his knees looked about to buckle. But a second later, it was as if nothing happened. The self- assured confidence was back, as was his color and smirk. It made her doubt if her eyes had just played a trick on her. He walked up to her casually holding out a hand to her, as she sat on a wooden bench in between the old women. He took her hand and kissed it softly smiling. "Let's get you home darling." He pulled her up. She thanked the women, took her strawberries and cream and put them in a paper back. Voldemort took it from her and told her to go ahead of him, that he'd catch up.

A sick, nervousness filled her, and she nearly began to cry again. Those poor women were so old, there was no telling if the memory wipe wouldn't get more than just their visit to the market. She began to run feeling overwhelmed with grief. The journal Snape had given her was tucked into her shorts pocket, her long peasant tunic covering it from sight, save the outline. She reached home before he caught up to her and quickly hid the journal deep within her things, casting a camouflage charm to make it blend in with her own books.

She went to the bathroom and washed her face, this was unnatural for her this emotional behavior. Although considering the situation perhaps none of her normal behavior could be expected anymore. She heard the door fly open signaling his return and took a deep breath before opening the door.

She hadn't expected him to be standing right there when she opened it though. And her breath caught in her throat as their eyes met, blood shot brown and smoldering red. "Who was that old witch?" he demanded softly. Her eyes darted away from the his to his hand. His wand was pressed firmly against her abdomen, digging painfully. She tried to move away but couldn't.

"What's going on, why are you doing this?" She tried to move but it was no use, he'd petrified her she realized. "I didn't even know that muggle women. She was the farmer's mother I think…" she glared at him. "What made you think she was a witch? What did she say to you?" He regarded her coldly his wand trembling against her for a moment before he pulled it away and turned from her. She was still frozen in the spot. He walked away and toward the library. She shouted for him to come back but he made no reply. She worried this was about Snape's visit and warning but as she tried to push herself into his mind all she got was one image, the farmer's mother. He returned holding a wizarding medical text, he was thumbing through a section quickly, as if looking for a specific spell. He began mumbling it quietly his wand pressed against her abdomen again. She couldn't make it out entirely but there was one word. Natus… a keyword in nearly any spell used when dealing with babies and pregnant witches. Though she knew she was still paralyzed from his spell, the room had begun to spin, and the last thing she saw before the world went dark was a tunnel of light that connected her to him.

When she awoke he was sitting beside her staring at her. She couldn't remember for the life of her how she'd ended up in bed. It was night, the last thing she remembered she'd been down to the garden to check if the rose from the poem was real. She'd found it and dug it out to discover a box with a white rosebud inside. She remembered feeling better, then worse than she'd ever felt before. And then….it felt like there was something that came next. But try as she could that was all that came to her.

He finally spoke. "You know you shouldn't just open dark artifacts you find buried in the ground." She saw the box and rosebud on the table beside the bed. You were under a powerful nightmare and possession spell. A completely unique one actually, very old too." His brow furrowed. "I don't think we should work together anymore. That was very foolish of you and clearly I shouldn't have trusted your judgment. A first year at Hogwarts knows better than to fiddle with unknown cursed objects alone. What if you'd succeeded at whatever the goal of the curse was. You know you wrote a rather vile note to me, all about how you'd see the death of the bastard heir of Slytherin."

"I didn't write that…"she felt déjà vu unlike anything she'd ever experienced, but continued anyway, "You said I was possessed, so clearly you already know I didn't write that."

He nodded slightly, "But it was your hand. And suppose your hand hadn't chose to write me a note, but instead to wait until I was asleep and murder me."

"But none of this happened…why don't you trust me, you can't be serious after all the work I've done for you." Something felt so wrong, more than his words, his actions, something was awry. Finally she gathered he courage and asked the question gnawing at her subconscious. "Did you wipe my memory?"

He was silent a moment too long, and even though he replied no, she knew better. "Fine. Well if you don't want to work together anymore then let me leave."

"Fine." he spat back. "Leave now, and don't you dare come back here or even try to contact me. I don't know what I was thinking, working with a filthy mud blood." She felt him release her from the petrification curse and she crawled out of bed and began to put her things into suitcases. He sat in the same spot, watching her silently. When she was all packed and dressed she apparated away down the road a ways. There was something drawing her there and then from no where there was an apparition. A women in a white gown with long dark wavy hair. She walked toward her slowly and reached her arm out and touched her stomach smiling at her sadly. "I tried to warn you child."

And then as if it was a mirage Hermione stood alone again, save for his shadowy figure watching her from the balcony.


End file.
